Aftermath 2 the Continued Story
by Cynlee
Summary: Leo and Raph begin the attempt to achieve their ultimate goal: to destroy Bishop. A followup to the short story Aftermath. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

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I am about to throw caution to the wind and begin my epic Bishop story. I have no idea what the heck the coming season is going to do, and frankly I don't care-- this is a story I want to tell, and I hope that I can. It's been bugging me for some time, and it is time to make the attempt. I would be grateful for any and all criticisms, suggestions, slaps to the wrist, etc.

TMNT and everyone in the story I'm about to attempt are owned by Mirage-- I'm guessing that includes Bishop, that slimy bas--agent... heh heh heh... The plot is basically mine, with the occasional allusion to the current series. (bows and leaves)

Things were pretty much back to normal-- i.e. they were dealing with Shredder.

At first things threatened to be rather calm after the invasion, barring a few run-ins with angry citizens newly armed with alien weapons and itching for payback-- "Hey, it's not my fault they can't tell a Turtle from a dinosaur," Raph had shrugged, after explaining how he'd met the blind lady.

The run-in with Mr. Touch and Mr. Go had certainly helped Mikey regain some sort of hold over his emotions-- though he was still having the nightmares.

The dreams were usually the same. He would be strapped to that table, and no one else was in the room except Bishop-- and no one could save him as the cutting began.

Once, after a particularly angry argument with Raph (hey, he hadn't meant to drop that dumbbell on Raph's foot!) during which Raph had made a statement to the effect that he'd be better off without Mike, the nightmare had begun as usual, except Raph was there-- and without a word had left him to Bishop. That was the hardest one, and it had drawn the attention of his brothers and Splinter because he'd apparently been shouting out to Raph, begging him to "Don't leave me!" as the cutting was going on.

Raph ended up sleeping in Mikey's room that night and for the next few nights as well, until this particular version of the nightmare stopped and he seemed to be more his normal annoying self.

But usually he'd wake up shaking or (worse to him) crying like a baby. The nightmares were fewer since the run-in with the Wonder Twins, as Mike liked to call them, but they were still there. And the only one he told was Splinter.

He had quit sleeping with Splinter after the first few nights back-- but only because he had forced himself to. But he did confide in his sensei after each of these incidents. Splinter had made him promise early on to always come to him about them, and Mike, even if he didn't tell the others, always told Splinter. As they talked them through, Mike began to heal.

Every time they were out, he felt as if Bishop were watching him, waiting for his chance to finish the job. But even this began to fade as they became more and more involved in other important business.

But he still had the nightmares once in a while. And he still looked over his shoulder.

Don acted as he usually did, but everyone made sure to keep an eye on him for his usual tactic when upset, i.e. overworking on projects and such. His work with Leatherhead on various projects, as well as helping their friend set up his new living quarters, had been very helpful to his peace of mind, it seemed.

His nightmares were fewer than Mike's it seemed-- Oh, he was honest with Splinter, he always told him if he'd had any-- Splinter had made him promise, as well. But the ones he did have were doozys-- the usual one about the mind probe tearing his memories apart, and Splinter not hearing his son's mental plea for help-- but once in a while, it was him on the table instead of Professor Honeycutt, and it was his brain that fried out due to the efforts to upload the virus. All of these nightmares, though few, resulted in his working into the early hours after having one-- he simply could not go back to sleep-- researching stuff like memory loss, brain damage, prevention against dementia. That mind-probe had worried him that perhaps he'd suffered some sort of damage.

He became obsessed with the thought that he'd forgotten something due to that torture-- so obsessed that one night, when they'd had to have cold leftovers for dinner because he'd forgotten that it was his turn to cook, he had a panic attack and went on a crying jag. It took Splinter several hours to calm his son and convince him that it was just an honest mistake, not the beginning of the end of his mind.

They had all hoped, even Splinter, that with the recent discovery that Honeycutt had backed up his memory, and managed to somehow store it until it could automatically download into Don's palm top, would stop Don's nightmares-- but for some reason, they increased for a short time.

Still, as the time went by, and they became more and more involved with the Shredder's new plans, both Don and Mike were getting better. But they both still seemed scarred. And scared.

Leo and Raph were more and more determined to find Bishop and take care of him themselves. Don and Mike would be useful, but neither one was ready-- at least, that was the opinion of the "older" brothers.

"Mikey would freak," Raph justified to Leo and himself one night, shortly after the episode when Raph had ended up sleeping in his room with him. "That bastard may not have physically cut him up, but it's like he took somethin' away from Mikey! Somethin's missin', ya know?"

Leo nodded grimly.

"He's not the only one. Don's not been the same, and I blame Bishop as well. He's the one who turned the fugitoid over to Blanque. Watching the Professor burn his robot brain out on top of what the Triceratons did to him-- I can't stand to see him so concerned about his mental abilities-- he's started second-guessing himself. That's not good."

"We gotta find Bishop! Maybe if we put an end to him, we can put an end to these problems!"

"Agreed. But how? Don would be the most helpful in this search."

Both brothers thought hard.

"Suppose we just use him to help us find stuff out," Raph suggested. "Suppose we just, you know, talk to him about ways to protect ourselves and stuff, and wanting to know if there's a way to do it..."

Leo thought this over.

"I don't know... it's tempting, but Don is so smart, I'm sure he'd see through us in a minute," Leo sighed.

"Well, let's consider it, huh? 'Cause my Googlin' skills aren't exactly workin'."

"I'm sure we aren't going to find him by simply using search engines," Leo laughed, then grew serious as he thought the problem through. "Okay, if we can't think of a better plan, we will go to Don. But we will need a convincing yet simple story. I don't want him to know that we plan on putting an end to that bastard."

"Agreed. And we definitely don't tell Mikey," Raph nodded. "I don't think I can take too much more of sleepin' with him just to keep him sane-- it'll drive me to have nightmares."

They shared a laugh and then went to bed.

Meanwhile, they became more and more drawn into Shredder's latest plans.

Oroku Saki was saving New York. And Shredder was collecting weapons and alien tech all over the place.

The Turtles became increasingly busy it seemed dealing with this stuff, with an occasional break to rest up at the Farm with Casey and April. And even there they couldn't stay out of trouble.

But more and more their time seemed spent in thwarting whatever plans Shredder was hatching.

More and more they were drawn into situations where they were dealing with Karai.

And this led to their first missed opportunity.


	2. Missed Opprotunities Number One

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Yes, I am already updating. This will be the only quick update, however. Promise. The rest will come more slowly. My plans are to briefly touch on episodes that involve Bishop-- yet in my story, Leo and Raph keep missing their chances for various reasons. The reason I use Aftermath as a title is because, especially in the first few chapters, the action takes place after a certain season three episode. As for season four-- there is no way to speculate. I have no real plans on doing so. If I can keep the story going, I plan on more divergence from the series-- hopefully. I have a definite end in sight, no matter what the series may be aiming at. I hope this answers a few questions:)

TMNT and all the characters in this story, along with some of the mentions to the show, are owned by Mirage and probably 4Kids TV. I am still owned by the need to pay rent and buy groceries...

Missed Opportunity Number One

A/N: this chapter starts off with a brief revisit to "Hun on the Run", then goes from there into an immediate aftermath)

They are on the top of the train, looking through the windows at the unbelievable fight taking place inside. Leo and Mikey look at each other in surprise.

"Bishop?"

"Karai?"

For Leo and Raph, was a gift from Heaven-- their months of searching, researching, wondering if each new thing they came across would lead them to Bishop, only to have it lead back to Shredder-- **this** would have been an opportunity handed to them out of the blue! It would have been the **perfect opportunity!**

Except for the fact that Hun and Karai were involved-- as well as Mikey and Don.

Plus, they'd had no warning.

That didn't mean they weren't going to try, despite Raph's answer to Mikey's "What do we do?"

"We do nothin'! We let them take each other out."

But Karai... Leo could not leave Karai in such a situation!

They followed Leo, who demanded that they help Karai.

Leo and Raph did their best-- and had the help of Donny though he was unaware of their plan-- but because they were also dealing with Hun, it was rather difficult to carry out their plan.

Plus, Bishop was almost-- inhuman-- in his abilities. They had seen Hun hardly make any real progress against this smaller man. Having fought Hun themselves, they were wondering if Bishop were something more than he appeared to be.

But Bishop was not invincible. Leo and Don came very close to finishing him off at one point-- but Bishop managed to get out of the way.

Eventually, with Karai helping out, Bishop cut and run--

Missed opportunity number one.

They then had to briefly worry about Hun-- until Karai had shoved him out of the still-moving car, then following him out after thanking Leo.

The train finally slowed to a stop, and the brothers tried to assess the night's work.

As they stood in the tunnel, Donny trying to figure out how he was going to get this train car home, and listening to Mikey offering increasingly outrageous suggestions to his brainy brother, Raph finally turned an angry, disappointed eye on Leo.

"We need to talk about this when we get home, Leo!" he growled, low enough for only his brother to hear.

Leo knew what was coming. He couldn't blame Raph.

"Dude!" Mikey kept trying to cheer Raph up all the way home in the Battle Shell-- Donny had figured out a plan, and was driving like a crazy turtle to get to the Lair, drop off his brothers, pick up Leatherhead and the palm top with Prof. Honeycutt's backup memory stored in it, and hurry back before something happened to his new acquisition-- "I'm sorry about your Shell-Cycle, but Don will build you a better one! Trust me!"

Raph couldn't tell Mikey that it wasn't the cycle that had him so pissed off. He was trying his best to keep it together, but the more he thought about how their chance to kill Bishop slipped through their fingers-- because of Leo's obsession with Karai-- the more he was wishing that he could magically send himself to Master Splinter, because he knew he desperately needed his father's guidance at the moment. He felt such anger at Leo! Such anger!

Though he found out later, it was almost nothing to the anger felt by their father when he learned of the night's activities-- Oh, Splinter was not one to show it the way Raph did, but as he and Mikey sat there, listening to Leo report to Splinter, he could see the signs. Splinter was becoming increasingly stern-looking, more still, more--- tense, as if struggling to hold onto his temper.

This was most evident when the story of Karai came into the report. Raph could see it in the twitch of his whiskers; the little sharp flicks of his tail; the eyes that had suddenly closed and remained so until Leo had finished.

Splinter listened to Leonardo's report on their latest adventure in this way, and Raph could tell that their Master was not happy-- at the news, or with Leo.

"I think Fearless Leader is in for it," Raph whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Mikey. Mikey suppressed a wicked grin, lowering his head quickly. He, too, had picked up on Splinter's subtle yet unmistakable body language.

So, it seemed, had Leo. He sat there, barely daring to look his father in the face.

"It is bad enough that Shredder is after this technology," he finally said, a few minutes after Leo had finished. "This Agent Bishop's interest in Shredder's activities is even more disturbing. We must be extra-careful, my sons. We must be extra-alert." Then he looked at Leonardo. "I do not like this business of Donatello taking charge of this train car. I do not understand how you could give him permission to retrieve it. How are we to know it is not a trap?"

"I believe that Don has thought of that," Leo replied. "He, Leatherhead, and the Professor will be sure to destroy it if it is a threat to our safety." Unless he figures a way to nullify the threat, that is, he silently added to himself.

Splinter gazed at him as if guessing the unspoken thought. Then he sighed. He had to do this next thing, and it was not going to be pleasant. He subconsciously tightened his grip on his walking stick, and leveled a stern gaze at his eldest.

"This is not the only thing that is troubling me," he continued. "I do not understand why you interfered in a fight between our enemies. I do not understand why you risked your brothers' lives to help those who wish us destroyed. Are we now aligned with one side over the other? Have you, indeed, joined forces with the Shredder after all?"

Leo blushed, and ducked his head. He swallowed and tried to answer calmly.

"Sensei, Karai was in danger. She--"

"She is the daughter and right hand of Shredder," Splinter interrupted mildly, though Leo wasn't fooled by the tone. "She has chosen to remain with Saki, to serve his cause-- to be our enemy. How is it our responsibility to secure her safety?"

"She's done the same for us," Leo tried that defense again-- it had been his excuse to Raph, but with Splinter it wasn't going to work.

"She has also shown time and again that she is more than willing to hurt this family.

"She understands honor--"

"**You** also understand honor, my son. **Her** sense of honor is not yours. I wish I could make you see this. As long as she serves the Shredder, as long as she participates in plans and plots that hurt innocent people, as long as she does his bidding, her honor will not be the same as yours, can never be the same as yours-- you want to have it both ways, my son. She does as well. And I believe you are confusing honor-- **her** honor-- with your **desire** to believe that she is as honorable as you; that she shares your views. I do not like this entire situation, Leonardo."

"But Sensei, she is only doing this because of what she feels she owes Saki for taking her in, for raising her as his own," Leo tried again, but Splinter was more than ready for this argument.

"And do you not owe me the same?"

Leo was left speechless, thinking of his father's harsh yet true words.

"Did I not 'take you in'?" Splinter pursued with his son's line of logic. "I took you in, raised you as my own, trained you, and rely on you as Shredder relies on Karai. You do my bidding willingly, yes?"

"Master, I--"

"So, if I tell you now, take your katana, find Donatello, and punish him for not returning to me at once with the rest of you, you will do this? You will mark your brother in a way that I prescribe?"

Leo looked at his father in horror.

"You do not answer? Does your **honor** prevent you from hurting your brother? Why does it not prevent you from disobeying your father? Your Master? Does not honor dictate that you follow the order of your master unquestioningly? Is this not the honor that Karai follows? Understands?"

At that moment, Donatello entered the room, and, not knowing what was going on, knelt before his father.

"Sorry, Master Splinter, for not coming home with the guys," he said cheerfully, bowing. "But I was--"

"Donatello, you dishonor me with your lateness and your attitude! Leonardo! Draw your katana! Punish your brother now!"

Don's expression froze on his face. His entire body seemed rooted to the spot, his mind was struggling to grasp what his father had just ordered.

Leo kept his head bowed, kept his place on the floor.

"Leonardo! Where is your honor?" Splinter's voice was harsh, loud, insistent, relentless. "You equate your honor with Karai's-- do as I order! I am your Master! You owe this to me!"

Raph was so enjoying this. Raph knew better than Leo that Splinter was driving home a much needed point. As for Mikey, he kept his face safely facing the floor, but it was becoming harder and harder not to make a noise. He was in danger of bursting out laughing.

"I-- I can't," he whispered, tears leaking out. "You know I can't do that, Sensei."

"That is correct," Splinter replied in his normal tone. "You have honor, honor that will not allow you to do wrong because that is how you were raised. Karai is not our concern. Karai is our enemy as long as she honors the Shredder and does his bidding. Remember this, my son. She is not to be trusted. The honor she has is still under the control of the Shredder. As long as she serves him unquestioningly, as her honor dictates, there is no trusting her."

Then he turned to his younger son, who was still staring in shock at what his father had said.

"Donatello, I apologize for frightening you," Splinter said, bowing slightly. "Your brother needed an object lesson, and unfortunately, you had to be the object. I am not unhappy with you-- well, perhaps a bit. What of this 'train car' that Leonardo has told me about? Is it destroyed?"

Don, his shocked brain finally registering that things were okay, shook his head as if clearing his vision, and then smiled.

"No, Sensei! We managed to get it to just outside Leatherhead's place. It's perfectly safe-- all three of us have made sure of that. You have my word of honor--"

"I believe I've heard enough about honor for the time being," Splinter dismissed them all with a wave. "Go to bed, it is late. Good night, my sons."

Leo was the last to leave, tears of shame still on his face.

How was trying to help Karai wrong? What was wrong with it?

What was wrong with him?

He never got to finish this discussion with himself-- he may have forgotten that Raph was determined to talk to him, but Raph hadn't. It surprised Leo to find his brother waiting for him in his room.

"Yeah, Raph? Let's hear it," he said, resigned to a fight. "I screwed up big time. I blew our chance. Opportunity presented us Bishop on a golden platter, and I messed up."

But Raph, after a minute of staring at Leo with arms crossed, broke out in a grin, and patted Leo on the head as if he were a naughty little turtle tot that had learned his lesson.

"I don't think I could improve on what Splinter did downstairs," he said, and left his brother to sulk the night away in a mixture of confusion, grief, and doubt.

Though he did poke his head back in Leo's room roughly fifteen minutes later.

"Just tell me ya ain't got the hots for her, Leo."

Leo threw his pillow at Raph, who ducked and laughed all the way back to his room.

That laugh haunted Leo the rest of the night.

The train car promised Donatello much exciting information and many interesting challenges.

It promised Mikey lots of fun with brightly colored buttons and levers just waiting to be pushed and moved.

It promised Leo and Raph a better chance of finding Bishop and (hopefully) putting an end to him.

But those promises were put on hold-- by the return of the hybrid now known as the Ultimate Drako. With one wave of the stolen Time scepter, all their lives were put on hold...


	3. Missed Opprotunities Number Two

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Hello again. This chapter is very talky-- sorry-- but the action picks up in part B. Thanks for the reviews.

TMNT are owned by Mirage-- I know, I checked.

Missed Opportunity Number Two: Splinter (part A)

That stupid, selfish, self-absorbed bastard! Raph thought again, clutching his pillow in frustration.

He and his brothers and father had only been back a few days from who knew how long a separation due to the obsessive vengeance of two beings-- two beings who had somehow merged into one-- and yet were now two again-- no, wait, one is a pile of dust and one is a kid.

He sighed again, punching his pillow, causing his hammock to swing rather dangerously with his tossing and turning.

They had been lucky to have a break. Mikey had been reading comics, Don video chatting with April, he and Casey making modifications and improvements to their bikes, and Leo training with Master Splinter. It had been sweet.

And that stupid, damn, self-absorbed bastard-- or bastards?-- that "thing", the Ulitmate Drako, had torn them apart, sent them God knows how, God knows where, and for what? Because Splinter had defeated Drako in the Battle Nexus once, and Leo had defeated the Ultimate Ninja once.

Vengeance for getting their asses kicked in fights.

Raph couldn't decide which was more dishonorable of the two-- Drako had willingly participated in the tournament. He was the epitome of the sore loser it seems, as Raph remembered the story Splinter's friend the Djinn had told them. He had lost fair and square, and yet had tried to kill Splinter in an ambush later, but was prevented by the Daimyo.

Then there was old Ultie-- the epitome of spoiled brattiness. He shows up and challenges Leo to a fight to the death, and for what? So he can be called the Ultimate Ninja-- and in order to make sure Leo will fight, he puts the lives of his friends and family in the balance. If Leo won't fight, then they would die.

Raph still burned with the desire to fight that brat!

And Leo, despite the dirty tricks of this creep, beats him! Beats him and lets him live, and the spoiled brat tries to kill them all anyway! If it hadn't been for the Daimyo showing up...

Raph gave up trying to sleep. He was too wound up. He flipped easily from his hammock and headed to the kitchen for a late-night snack.

The Daimyo-- there was another piece of work! Blaming Leo for his son's disappearance, trying to throw him and Usagi into the dungeons-- no, wait-- it hadn't been his fault, he'd been put under some spell by the Ultimate Drako.

Still, he thought, as he rummaged out some leftover chicken and a soda, you'd think a guy that powerful wouldn't be so easily taken control of...

"Any chicken left?" Leo's voice sounded behind him. Raph grunted an affirmative, and got Leo a soda as well, as Leo sat down at the table. He looked like Raph felt-- too wound up to sleep.

"Let me guess," Raph said, "the Ultimate Drako thing, right?"

Leo nodded, taking a bite of the chicken.

"I still can't get this whole thing out of my mind," he said, as he and Raph made short work of the leftovers. "The depths of vengeance those two went to for revenge. It started me thinking about our plan for Bishop."

"You comparin' us to them?" Raph snorted. "Leo, how is it the same? Are you sayin' we shouldn't do it after all?"

Leo thought for a minute, then shook his head.

"No. I can't explain it, but to me they're not the same. I'm sure Sensei would say it is, but for some reason I simply do not see the similarities."

"Good, 'cause for a moment there I thought you were gonna say let's forget it. And it's bad enough we can't get paybacks on Drako and the Damiyo's son."

Now it was Leo's turn to laugh.

"I know. It's like you said the first night back, how can you get revenge when one is a pile of rubble and the other is a kid? He tried to kill his own father and take over, yet his father still loved him and wanted him back."

"Well, he's got a second chance now," Raph said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I hope he does a better job raisin' him this time than he did the first time!"

They silently finished up the food, and cleaned up the mess. Mikey was going to be so pissed when he found all the chicken gone! He loved cold chicken for breakfast.

"Well, hopefully we can get a few days rest before Shredder starts up again," Leo said, as they made their way back to their rooms. "It's been pretty quiet-- which means he'll be launching something soon."

"I know, and he keeps cuttin' into our hunt for Bishop," Raph complained. "Know what I'm thinking? He's after the same stuff as Shredder, right? Alien tech? I get the feeling we won't have to wait much longer-- somewhere before we find out Shredder's big plan, Bishop's gonna be sticking his greasy haired self into the mix."

"I think you're right," Leo agreed. "I've got a bad feeling he's going to find us before we can find him."

"Well, let's be ready, no matter WHO needs savin'!" Raph grinned, unable to resist the dig at his brother. They both returned to their rooms and finally got to sleep.

Don woke in a sweat. His old nightmares about the mind probe and Honeycutt had made way to newer, more frightening ones of a terrible future with no family. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't shake his experience in that future world, where Shredder reigned supreme and his brothers were all dead, killed in their final battle with Shredder.

Only in this nightmare, it was all wasted effort.

Why can't I have happy nightmares? he wondered, getting up and heading to the kitchen. Why can't it at least be what really happened, not this alternate ending?

He opened the fridge-- Damn! The chicken was gone! He snagged a soda and searched around until he remembered the leftover pizza. Not exactly what he'd been craving, but hey, now he needed something to eat, and it was that or peanut butter sandwiches.

"Toss me some, too, bro," came Mikey's voice, and without a word Don popped several slices into the microwave, while Mike got himself a soda.

"Can't sleep, eh?" Don needlessly asked.

"Nightmare," Mike nodded, patiently waiting for the pizza. "How about some chicken to go with it?"

"Too late-- someone else got to it. I think Raph and Leo since it's all gone. Still dreaming about Bishop?"

"Nope, thank goodness! I haven't had a Bishop-mare in months! No, I was dreaming about being super heroes!"

Don smiled.

"And that was a nightmare? I'd think it would be a perfect dream for you," he said, setting the reheated food in front of his brother.

"Well, actually, no-- I kept dreaming that the bad guy was Splinter," Mike sighed, and Don remembered Mikey's story about their alternate selves, where their father had been evil.

"I don't know if I could do that," Mikey said, between bites of his pizza. "I mean, you know, leave him to die like that. Yet they had to I guess. He was going to try to destroy everyone. But I wonder why they didn't think to save him anyway."

"Mikey, you don't know that they didn't save him," Don pointed out again, but Mike was adamant.

"No-- there was no time," he sighed. "And they had broken with him a long time ago, from what I could gather. When they told their mayor that it would end that night, I knew they meant the big final bye-bye end. I just didn't know until we got there that it was their Splinter they were going to 'end'."

Don sighed, thinking of this. He thought finding Splinter being dead in the future hard enough. He couldn't imagine what he'd have felt if Splinter had been the evil one.

"So, Donny boy, I'm guessing you're up for nightmare reasons as well," Mikey said, getting another soda.

"Yeah. Only now I dream about that place," he shuddered in spite of himself. "I just can't get those images out of my mind. Every time I look at you, or Raph, or Leo, I can see for a moment how it looked in that future. We need to make sure Shredder never gets the chance to take over like that!"

"He won't, bro!" Mikey assured him confidently. "After all, you came back, right? Didn't you say that we said you'd vanished and never came back? But you did come back, see, so it won't happen, 'cause you messed it all up with that time-travel stuff. I've seen enough movies to know that!"

Don looked at Mike, who was nodding seriously at him. How could you explain to Mike that the movies aren't the best things to rely on where science is concerned?

But as he looked at the confidence and reassurance on his little brother's face, he couldn't help but smile-- and feel better.

"You know something, Mikey? You're right! It can't possibly happen like that, because I did come back," Don agreed. "Thanks, bro!"

"Anytime, Don," Mike waved it off as if it were nothing, then yawned mightily. "Well, I'm off to bed again. Training comes too early, and I don't think Splinter's gonna give us the day off just 'cause we had nightmares."

Don laughed and followed his brother up to bed.

Splinter, in his room, decided that meditation was in order since sleep wouldn't come. He had heard his sons heading to the kitchen during the night, but had refrained from joining any of them. He, too, needed sleep, but was unable to achieve it.

In his case, however, it wasn't the past events that kept him awake-- it was a strange foreboding, nagging at his subconscious-- a threat of some future danger that seemed to be growing in his mind. He tried earlier to meditate, to see if he could discern this threat, but nothing clear came through. Perhaps he would try again. At the very least, it might help him relax. After all, training came early, and he certainly was not going to give his sons the day off just because of nightmares.

Early morning. Stormy weather forecast for the entire day.

Training went on as usual.

Lunch. Free time. Afternoon training. And now a lesson.

They sat on either side of their Sensei, who was recapping to them all they had faced in the past few months. Michelangelo earned a smack on the head for being flippant and disrupting the lesson with foolishness. Leonardo answered the question Splinter had posed correctly. Michelangelo was once again not paying attention-- evidently for a good reason: strange black, oddly shaped "somethings" were floating in the pool. Suddenly they began to emit a strange, high pitched noise.

To the Turtles it was irritating.

To Splinter, it was crippling! The sound entered his brain, causing pain, confusion-- he couldn't think! He couldn't function!

They made a break for it, getting Splinter into the Battle Shell, only to find that they couldn't escape that sound.

And they soon knew why-- they were being driven out and hunted!

Raph did his best, driving in the stormy weather, dodging official-looking vehicles, missiles, a helicopter. They were trapped and couldn't get away.

One miso managed to lodge in the roof. Before Don could deal with it, a gas canister suddenly opened, filling the van with noxious fumes. Raph managed to stop the Battle Shell without wrecking it, and the guys piled out, trying to stay conscious.

Dimly Leo could see the men wearing black clothes, carrying weapons. He couldn't move, couldn't call out to his brothers to see if they were all right. He desperately tried to stay conscious as the men ran past him, dragging an unconscious Splinter between them.

Then the white-haired man-- Leo remembered him-- he spoke into his radio headset, informing his boss that the target was recovered.

"What of the Turtles?" Leo heard that voice, faint as it was, and knew that he'd been right.

Bishop had found them before they could find him.

"Neutralized, Sir. Your orders?"

"No survivors," came the cold reply, and Leo's last thought as they moved in to kill them was I'm sorry, father. I failed you.


	4. Missed Opprotunities Number Two con't

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This one take place during "Bishop's Gambit" and, naturally, my aftermath. (actally, the previous one ended with the beginning of that episode). Now, the thing is, I am trying to avoid telling the parts that were the actual cartoon-- after all, I did not write those stories, otherwise there'd be a different outcome, probably the cancellation of the series. Anyway, I do have to recap some of it in spots in order for my story to continue, and I do add some dialogue or scenes that do not take place in the actual show. I'm not sure how to highlight this (any suggestions?) other than to hope that, if you've seen the episode, you will know which is mine and which is theirs. If you haven't seen the show, know that the basic premise for the first part of this chapter is from the cartoon. So I must remember to add that all show references are the property of 4Kids Entertainment, just like TMNT are the property of Mirage. All of the aftermaths are mine. As the story progresses, the action will be all mine. I only have a few more chapters of recaps before I can get down to serious business. Thank you.

Oh, yeah-- once again-- TMNT and references to the show are the property of Mirage and 4Kids Entertainment. Please do not sue me, I have no money.

Missed Opportunities Number 2: Splinter (part B)

They awoke to the fact that they were alive.

They were below ground, safe and confused-- and alive.

Standing over them-- their friend Leatherhead. He told them how he'd found them just as the men with guns were about to kill them.

"They won't be a future problem," he assured them, and judging from the little bit of blood that he hadn't wiped away from his mouth, the guys could guess why. "But I wasn't able to save Master Splinter."

Professor Honeycutt, in his new robot body ("We did the best we could", he had sighed at Mikey's observation on its look, since it was quite different from his old one) confirmed that the plan must have been to capture Splinter alive. That's why the gas hadn't killed them.

"At least we know who has him," Raph had growled, as they all groggily got up.

The big question: how to find Bishop.

The answer: the train car.

Don had never had a chance to really examine the train car, since the Ultimate Drako incident had pulled them all away. Since their return, he'd had other things to do as well. But now he, Leatherhead, and Professor Honeycutt had little time-- they had to examine what they could quickly. Every second was precious.

It was a shock to discover that a lot of alien technology was involved in this machine-- Honeycutt said some of it was unfamiliar to him.

"Your Agent Bishop seems to get around for an Earthling," he had observed.

Leatherhead found the recall program, and between the three of them, they got it ready to return to-- well, hopefully, Bishop's base of operations.

"Okay, here's the plan," Leo said, and issued quick orders. Once there, Leatherhead was to insure they got entrance, and cover their backs. Honeycutt was to accompany them. Object: retrieve Splinter.

"I wish we had some backup," Mike muttered. "Maybe Casey--"

"No time," Leo insisted. "Besides, this is our fight."

He didn't add that there was more to this plan-- but as Raph was the only one involved, he didn't need to.

The plan was set; the guys were ready.

The recall signal was activated. The train moved out.

Each Turtle thought his own dark thoughts. There was little talk. There was little need for talk.

Each Turtle had tried to touch his father's mind somehow, but something was preventing this. Nerves, perhaps; or something worse...

"We're gonna get him back," Raph said in Leo's ear, sensing Leo's mood.

"We're going to end this today," Leo replied, and the two exchanged brief shoulder pats.

There were men at the station on high alert-- they had known something was wrong. The train coming in should have been destroyed, and yet here it was, slowing stopping in the station. The men were arrayed in front of the doors, weapons aimed, ready for anything.

Well, anything except what they got-- smoke and a truly gigantic crocodile, roaring, snatching up guards right left and center as if he were playing football. Turtles with weapons that sliced, smashed, and cut both men and machinery. It was happening so quickly that there was no time to prevent them from entering the facility. The Turtles and the robot gained entry. The crocodile was left to the survivors.

Weapons aimed at this creature's back. Orders to surrender crudely barked out.

Screams of panic as the crocodile rose up and attacked-- men dropped their guns, tried to run for their lives.

They didn't run fast enough.

Inside, they had little chance to take in the scenery. Their goal was in sight-- Master Splinter, strapped to a table being lowered into a tank that was filling with some kind of fluid!

"Professor! Free Master Splinter!" Leo ordered, as he and his brothers launched themselves straight at Bishop-- and were met with a masked monstrosity.

It was quick, powerful, skilled.

And it could heal.

Raph pierced it with both of his weapons, and the wounds healed in front of his eyes.

Then the mask dropped from the face, and they could see-- it looked like Bishop.

"My super soldier!" he gloated. "Handsome devil if I do say so myself."

The guys were now targeted by this clone of Bishop.

This deadly clone of Bishop.

Honeycutt was doing his best to free Splinter, while the guys engaged in a deadly game of hide and seek with the clone.

Mikey was the first one taken out.

Don was a close second.

Raph was having the most luck fighting it, and even he was getting his clock cleaned.

Raph discovered in the process that the hundreds of containers surrounding them had clones-- of Bishop!

"What an egomaniac!" Raph gasped, as he struggled to get out from under one such container that had pinned him to the floor.

Leo saw the clone-- watching a battle between Bishop and Splinter! Splinter, freed from his container, was making Bishop wreck his own lab in his attempts to stop the rat. Bishop kept swinging that long fighting chain with the clawed end, Splinter kept moving at the last minute, making sure to stand where the clawed end would do the most damage to the machinery.

The clone gathered itself to attack Splinter; it leaped through the air, straight at their father-- Leo, also leaping, intercepted it with a kick, knocking it into the container that had previously held Splinter. Before the clone could escape, Honeycutt sealed it in, and the preserving fluid immobilized it.

Bishop was livid! He renewed his attack on Splinter. Leo rushed desperately to interfere, but before he could, Splinter had managed to get Bishop's weapon tangled in the machinery. Even the electric shock didn't stop Bishop---

But the explosion did!

He was sent flying by the blast-- straight onto a hanging hook!

He hung there, limp, blood dripping. Leo barely had time to shout "Yes!" in his brain as he quickly made his way to Master Splinter. Raph emerged from the smoke, Mike right behind supporting Don. The Professor, minus an arm, joined them as more explosions began to rock the place. Water-- probably from a pipe, probably from the river-- they had no way of knowing, but given that his last base of operations had an underwater entrance, it made sense--water was flooding the place quickly, causing more and more explosions.

They turned to go and saw the hook empty!

They saw Bishop, trailing blood, climbing the latter out of the lab.

They followed as quickly as they could, and were surprised when they emerged street-side. Bishop was no where to be seen.

"Come, let us go home," Splintered ordered, and they wasted no time in following.

Home.

Splinter, his injuries treated by Donatello, was resting in his room. The experience of having so much fluid drained from him, not to mention the other things Bishop had done to him while unconscious-- on top of the fight he'd engaged in, had worn him out, and he was sleeping peacefully.

Don and Mikey were in bed.

Leo and Raph were drinking hot chocolate and planning.

"Well, that's one more of his bases that's been taken care of," Raph sighed. "But damn! What's it gonna take to stop Bishop?"

Leo shook his head. The image of that bastard hanging from that hook was still fresh in his mind-- along with the image of the empty hook, and the brief glimpse of a wounded Bishop climbing that ladder quickly.

"I can't get over that whole thing," Leo said. "You saw it, right? He was hanging there like a piece of meat. I saw him hit the hook, I heard his scream-- I was sure I heard his last breath. Then he was gone!"

"How could he survive? How could he get off that hook?" Raph wondered. "You don't suppose he's-- well, an Utrom?"

Leo shook his head.

"No, Don is sure he's human-- or, rather, was born human. Don thinks perhaps he's been playing with his own DNA, but his theory was full of so many terms and words I can't even pronounce, much less spell, that I can't explain it any better than that."

They both laughed at Don's way of talking to them as if they can understand everything he's saying.

"Man, I was so sure our job had been done for us," Leo continued, getting himself another cup of hot chocolate. "I thought we were free and could concentrate on good old, dependable Shredder. At least I understand his brand of evil. Bishop--" and Leo shook his head in perplexity.

Raph started to answer when a scream from upstairs startled them both. Rushing out to the living area, they knew almost at once that Mikey was having that nightmare again-- the one where Raph had abandoned him.

"I want to personally kill Bishop!" Raph growled, as he entered Mikey's room first. His brother was thrashing around in his bed, screaming and pleading with Raph to not leave him.

"Mikey!" Raph shouted, as Don and then Master Splinter joined them. As Mikey slept in a top bunk, it was hard for the injured rat to easily reach his son, but Don supported him as he climbed up onto a chair, trying to soothe his son, while Raph, also standing on a chair, was attempting to wake Mikey up.

The pain! The pain! The blood the pain the pain the blood the fear the begging Raph Raph please please don't leave me oh Raph...

"MIKEY!" the shout finally got through the horror-- finally got through the horror, and he opened his eyes forcefully, finding himself being shaken by Raph, hearing his brother shouting at him to "wake up! Mikey wake up, it's a nightmare wake up!" while hearing Splinter also begging him to "Calm yourself, my son! Calm yourself! No one is hurting you! Your brother has not abandoned you! Calm yourself!"

He couldn't quit sobbing-- he couldn't quit breathing in gasps or sobbing.

He couldn't quite believe that he was awake for a few minutes-- perhaps this was a delusion brought on by the torturous death being performed on him by Bishop.

He stared desperately into his brother's eyes, his own so spilling with tears it made it hard to see.

"Mikey!" he heard Raph say again, this time more forcefully yet more quietly. "Mikey, it's just a nightmare. We've been over this time and time again. I would never leave you! How could you think such a thing?"

"Raph?"

Raph grinned at this recognition.

"Yeah, you chucklehead?"

Mikey cried as he hadn't cried in years-- and Raph was stunned even more at this than at the extent of the apparent nightmare.

He somehow got up on the bed, and lifted his brother into a sitting position, and just held him as tightly as he could, not saying anything.

Between Raph and the soothing words of Splinter, Mikey finally was able to draw a clean breath without gasping or sobbing.

But as Raph held his brother, he himself grew angrier and angrier, thinking of that bastard Bishop-- Mikey had been better, hadn't had one of these "Bishop-mares", as he called them, in months.

Now they were back-- thanks to that egomaniac, that filth, that crazy psycho, that evil mother-- and as he thought these things, he realized with horror that Mikey was picking up on his emotions, and beginning to react again-- tense, gulping breaths, unable to stop crying-- fear---

FEAR--

Raph had known Mikey to be afraid, but never to FEAR!

"Aww, Mikey, what did he do to you?" Raph barely whispered, kissing his brother's head as he cradled him as if he were an infant.

So Raph did something that he normally didn't do without making a scene about it-- he began to meditate-- he began to meditate and restore calm to himself-- and to transfer that calm to his brother.

The change was almost instantaneous. Mikey's breathing slowed with Raph's; Mikey's body relaxed as quickly as Raph's did; and Mikey fell asleep against his brother, his mind calm and peaceful-- and feeling the safety that his brother was providing.

Splinter quietly left the room, and just as quietly returned, with Leo and Don in tow, bringing Raph blankets, a pillow, and a mat to sleep on.

Raph was grateful.

Then Don made sure that Master Splinter made it safely back to bed, while Leo finished setting up the temporary bed for Raph.

Once he had settled Mikey back, he got down and looked sourly at the bed. He hated sleeping on the floor.

"Well, we could always hang an extra hammock in here," Leo managed to smile, and Raph managed to laugh. Then they both looked serious, gazing at their baby brother.

"We have got to end this, Leo."

"I know, Raph. We will. I promise."


	5. Next Few Days

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Whew! I spent a day at school, getting ready for the coming year. What a lot of boredom! Anyway, this story is mostly mine, except for the description of Splinter's vision at the end, which is the beginning of "Exodus- Part One" (though not word for word-- just from what I can remember, as the VCR ate up that part of the tape). It sets the next stage for recaps, including Bishop-- who, naturally is my main goal, but I need to deal with this part. If you've not seen the show and don't want to know anything, skip the next two chapters. The main goal, as I stated, is Leo and Raph's determination to deal with Agent Bishop.

TMNT are the property of Mirage; the series is the property of Mirage and 4Kids Entertainment; the comic books that I am taking to school are the property of me, and I hope my kids take care of them.

Next Few Days

Raph only had to get up once that night, when Mikey had begun another nightmare-- but this one dissipated as soon as the brother in question put his hand on Mikey's arm and said, "Come on, bro-- let's go home."

And Mikey quit dreaming his nightmare, and sighed, and fell back into a deep sleep.

Raph left the room just before Mikey woke up. It was an unspoken thing between them. Mikey tried to act normally-- Raph made jokes about what was normal-- Mikey tried to get on nerves and succeeded.

Mike met with Splinter and relayed to him in detail the night's previous nightmare; Splinter listened carefully, questioned carefully, and counseled carefully, and Mikey seemed more his old self afterwards.

But that night, everyone saw the hesitancy that Mikey was feeling about going to bed.

Nothing was said by Mike or Raph as Raph entered the room with the blankets, pillow, and sleeping mat from the day before. Nothing was said beyond "good night, bro" by either of them, and that night the nightmares-- three in total-- were quickly dealt with; Raph would put a hand on Mike's arm and say "Come on, bro-- let's go home."

He is strapped to that table, and the cutting is starting---

Then a red fury runs a sai through Bishop's throat, another through his back, and tosses the twitching body aside.

"Come on, Bro-- let's go home."

And he follows his brother wordlessly home.

"It's okay, Raph," he said the third night, before Raph could gather his gear. And with that he entered his room and closed the door.

Part of Raph was happy-- now he could sleep in his beloved hammock instead of on the floor.

Part of him was worried that his brother was doing this despite still needing him. But he accepted it and went to his own room.

Mikey reminded himself, before going to sleep, of the way Raph killed Bishop in his dream-- he repeated this "memory" over and over, like a mantra, with the "Come on, Bro-- let's go home" as his chant-- and the nightmare, when it came, was quickly dealt with.

More healing.

Don helped Leatherhead refurbish Professor Honeycutt. They managed to replace the arm that Bishop had destroyed, and improved on a few other parts of the body as well. They also made sure that he had a way to access Don's palm top that would require little effort or energy-- no one knew just how important that skill would be in the coming days.

Splinter, rested if not quite healed just yet, ran training as if nothing had happened. But he could see that his sons were affected by this latest touch of Bishop's on their lives. He, too, felt that part of his very spirit had been injured by this-- man.

Leo, always the one to throw himself into training, seemed to find more time than could be imagined in improving his skills. He studied the most deadly, the most difficult moves he could research.

But Raphael surprised his father the most-- he spent more time meditating. And he spent less time getting angry at Michelangelo.

Splinter, also, began to realize that he feared something-- he couldn't place a finger on it, but he feared something none the less. He would meditate, and some growing threat seemed to be nudging his conscious, tapping at his awareness. Was this merely a reaction to his treatment by Bishop? No, he was sure it was something else; a growing threat, but not from Agent Bishop. But he was not able to clearly define it as yet.

A few days after returning from the rescue of Splinter, the family, along with Leatherhead and Professor Honeycutt, met to discuss future protection.

"I don't like that Bishop was able to introduce something into the system to drive us out," Leo said. "Don, we must find a way to make sure that can't possibly happen again."

"Already working on it," he responded. "We've been busy blocking possible access to our living areas-- nothing larger than a rat should be able to get through. That doesn't help us if Bishop introduces something smaller than a rat, but it's a start. We've also been examining the devices that created the disturbance. The Professor has managed to create a feedback program that has disabled any remaining pods-- they can not be reactivated."

"Well, as you said, it's a start," Leo agreed. "What about new locations for us to move to if the Lair is compromised?"

Don shook his head.

"Still searching. There is the option of going further down, towards the Underground City--" he began, but Mike immediately objected.

"That place is too dangerous! I'd rather take my chances up here than go back to that place!"

"We may have no choice, Mikey," Leo tried to reason with him, but Michelangelo was adamant.

"No! It's not right! That place isn't safe! It's not the place for us!"

"Actually I agree with Mikey on this one," Raph put in. "But for different reasons. I don't like the idea of being driven underground. We're already underground, we've spent our whole lives underground. I don't favor going any further. I'm tired of hidin' as it is, but I definitely don't think we should go further down."

Splinter sighed.

"I also agree," he said slowly. "It is not right to expect you to do so. It is not right to always be hiding. If the decision were mine alone, I would take you all and move to this underground city, move to where we could never be found. But you are not children anymore. We must agree on a plan of action, and it must be acceptable to us all."

"I think we should keep the Underground City a viable option," Leo said. "A last resort-- if it looks like there is no other option, we go there and regroup, we plan from there-- not to stay permanently, but until we can recover and strike back."

They all thought about this. Put this way, it seemed more acceptable. They talked about it a bit more, then agreed-- some more reluctantly than others.

"We have been trying to contact the Utroms," Honeycutt now spoke. "We've managed to exchange a few messages-- rather incomplete but enough to alert them to our presence and to relay news of the Shredder. Once we get a working transmat beam up and running, there is always the option of going to the Utroms' home world."

"I don't wanna leave Earth," Raph said. "This is my home, whether the world wants me or not."

"I wouldn't mind going to visit," Don said, "but I don't like to think of having to escape Bishop by leaving the planet."

"My sons, I do not think this is a choice we will have to make," Splinter said. "Bishop is obsessed with 'protecting the world' from alien invasions. He is convinced that aliens live among us now, and he is determined to find them and destroy them. We are a problem to him, but not his main goal. Still, we must be prepared for anything. Our immediate concern is Shredder."

"Still nothing going on," Mikey said. "It's like they shut down and left town or something. We've not seen any Foot activity."

Leo shook his head.

"It's been too quiet. Whatever Shredder is planning with all the alien tech he's been collecting, I think he's ready to implement it."

Splinter thought about the feeling he'd been experiencing recently, but decided to wait until he could offer a more complete explanation that "I have a feeling".

"I want you all to be extremely careful," he said instead. "I would prefer that none of you go above ground-- unfortunately, that is the only way to be aware of what our enemies may be doing." He sighed, still feeling that something was about to happen, but not willing to expound on further. The meeting broke up.

Leo hesitated, then followed Splinter to his room.

"Sensei," he spoke, kneeling down. "Sensei, I know that something is troubling you. Is it Bishop? I-- I feel that I let you down, and I need to--"

"Leonardo, we have already been over this," his father kindly but firmly cut him off. "You cannot take the blame for what happened. You and your brothers are to be commended for your quick actions in rescuing me. When I first awoke in that place, I was for a moment convinced that you had been killed-- but after a short time, I 'felt' that you were all safe. I do not know how, I only know that I could feel each of you touch my mind with stray thoughts. It gave me strength. And you all found that place so quickly, I truly do not have words to describe my pride in all of you."

Leonardo felt bad, like he had solicited these comments; Splinter had already told them that first night how immensely proud he was of them for their quick actions in rescuing him. Now here he was, hearing it again, and he felt embarrassed, as if still seeking approval.

Yet he still felt guilt that Bishop's men had been able to take his father in the first place. More than ever he was going to put an end to that being.

"Sensei, is it Shredder?" he asked, shaking his guilt and trying to return to his original question. "I know that we've been unable to find out anything recently. Mikey is right; it's like they've been swallowed up by the ground. Even the Purple Dragons are strangely quiet. The only thing we've heard is that there is some sort of celebration planned for the official dedication to the repairs to the city, but the date hasn't been finalized."

Splinter looked at his eldest and smiled.

"I do not know, my son. I do admit, I feel a growing dread, a darkness if you will, on the horizon of our lives-- it grows stronger each time I meditate. But it is not clear to me just yet. As soon as it is, I promise I will tell all of you. But do not worry. Take care of our immediate needs. Make sure we are secure from any future attacks by Bishop-- though I am convinced, for some reason, that he has a bigger goal in his sights at the moment. Something he said to me convinces me of this, but I cannot tell you exactly what it was that he said."

Leo bowed to his father and left.

Splinter sighed, and smiled.

Such sons!

More and more days went by, and the Lair and sewers were as secure as Don, Leatherhead, and Professor Honeycutt could make them without drawing the unwanted attention of city workers.

Mikey and Raph continued to keep an eye on what they knew to be Foot headquarters (Mikey always laughed at that term-- it finally dawned on Raph just why, but it didn't make Mikey's laugh any less annoying whenever the words came up), though the rest of the City knew it as the business/residence of Oroku Saki, that most benevolent of investors who had done so much for the recovery of their metropolis. What a saint! What a noble man! What a blessing!

"What a load of shit!" grunted Raph, as he listened to the Mayor expounding upon his good friend Mr. Saki on the news one night.

"And we are pleased to announce that there will be a special celebration marking the completion of the repairs," he continued, glowing with pride. "The invitations have been sent out, and it promises to be a glorious event. It takes place two weeks from today. By rights, it is the City that should be holding this celebration, but Mr. Saki insisted on footing the entire thing himself!"

Raph hit Mikey with a cushion to get him to quit laughing at the choice of words.

"Enough already, Mike-- it's not funny!"

"But dude---"

"Mikey!"

That night, Master Splinter held his Rememberal, the gift from the Utroms that contained their collective memories of his beloved Master Yoshi. He felt the need to think on this man, and wanted to spend some quiet time recalling their past together.

Instead, he began to witness things that were disjoined, but somehow important-- he witnessed his Master's being honored by the Utroms, as they placed the insignia medallion around his neck; his death at the hands of Saki; the Utroms under attack by a strange invading force, losing the battle; an even stranger vision of Shredder standing like a giant among the stars, flaming planets in his hands---

Suddenly he was standing on a snowy mountain, across from Master Yoshi. No words were spoken as they bowed. Then, to Splinter's utter surprise, he was suddenly garbed as his master had been, dressed as a Guardian, wearing the insignia medallion that he had seen them place around his own master's neck. He looked at Master Yoshi, who smiled.

Suddenly Splinter understood. He addressed his master in Japanese, and bowed.

Yoshi smiled.

In his room, he opened his eyes.

"I will not let you down, my master-- my father," he softly said aloud.


	6. Detour: Shredder

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Sorry! This seems like a big detour from my main plot, but it works. Eventually. I had to write it. Please don't be hatin'.

TMNT and certain plot mentions belong to Mirage Pub. and 4Kids Entertainment-- I just keep saying that day after day after day, and it helps me to handle reality...

Detour: Shredder

The brothers sat before their master, thinking of what he'd just revealed to them. Now they were studying the implications, thinking and rethinking the "message" and comparing it with what they had witnessed this past year since the invasion.

Uppermost on their minds, Splinter's statement: "We must stop the Shredder from doing whatever he is planning. Millions of lives depend on this."

"We have until the big celebration at Shredder's to plan," Leo finally said. "Whatever he is planning, that would be the best time to infiltrate and discover what's going down."

"We'll need help," Raph pointed out. "It ain't like we're gonna blend in, ya know."

"I know. I'm sure Casey would be willing to help," Leo replied.

"April would be useful," Don pointed out. "I've got some ideas about accessing their security, and we'll need someone on the inside to help with that. She could blend in as a guest-- if we can get her in. Professor Honeycutt and Leatherhead also need to be involved, especially with the security aspect of it."

"But will they help?" Mikey wondered. "I mean, I know that the Professor will probably say yes, but L. H. might not want to be involved."

"If it's to help the Utroms, he will help," Leo pointed out. "I may not understand every bit of your vision, Sensei, but you would agree that the Utroms are the targets?

"Yes. We know how much Shredder wanted his revenge on his own home planet when the Utroms escaped that time," he nodded. "I may not myself understand the full implication of this vision, but the general meaning is clear. My master has charged me with protecting the Utroms, as he did; as his fellow Guardians did."

Leo nodded grimly. That was the obvious interpretation of the vision.

"It's too bad Master Yoshi just couldn't tell you outright what Shredder was up to," Mikey spoke, and Raph smacked the back of his head. "Hey! What was that for?"

"Just because I felt like it," Raph replied. "Visions don't work that way, you should know that."

"My sons, it is only an unclear vision," Splinter said quietly. "I do not know anything for certain except that the Utroms are in danger from the Shredder. We must find out what the exact danger is."

"We will, Sensei. I wonder if he has constructed his own transmat machine," Leo mused, but Don shook his head.

"I doubt that-- judging from what tech we know he's gotten hold of. Weapons, parts of their attack ships, computer programs-- this is something much bigger."

"Well, it's a cinch he didn't build no rocket ship!" Raph laughed, and they all joined in. There was no where in the City where such a thing could be hidden.

"Well, let's get to work," Leo said. "Don, you go to Honeycutt and Leatherhead. Raph and Mikey can contact Casey and April. I'm going back to spy out their H.Q. for a while. Meet me there."

They bowed to Splinter and started to leave, but Splinter suddenly called to Leonardo to remain for a moment.

Leo knelt back down in front of his father, waiting. Splinter seemed to be thinking deeply, and Leo wondered if he'd either changed his mind or forgotten what he was going to say-- which, he laughed to himself, was highly unlikely.

Then:

"My son, I want you to remember my words regarding Karai."

Leo sat there, stunned. He felt as if he'd been hit in the face-- no, hit with cold water.

"I want you to remember my words, Leonardo. She cannot be trusted."

Leo looked as if he'd been caught in a guilty secret-- which, in fact, he had. He swallowed, and tried to look noncommittal, but he knew his father was onto him. But how? He hadn't done anything-- yet.

"I know that you have been watching Shredder's headquarters more than your brothers," Splinter explained. "I know that you have even taken Michelangelo's turn."

"But Sensei, that was because--"

"Please! Do not use your brother's nightmares as an excuse!" Splinter was adamant-- and pained. His son had been-- well-- not honest with him. "You have some idea of perhaps 'running' into Karai-- you think that perhaps she will give you clues as to the Shredder's plans." More of a statement than a question; more of an educated guess than a shot in the dark.

Leonardo now hung his head. He should have known that something like this would be sensed by his father.

"It is true. I think that if I can talk to her, I can find out what Shredder is planning. I don't mean that she will just out and out tell me," he hurriedly explained when it looked as if Splinter was going to interrupt. "I just-- well, I just know that she will say-- something-- that will help us figure out what Shredder is up to."

"My son, Karai cannot be trusted. She will never betray her master, even in a hint," Splinter tiredly said.

"Please! You don't understand!" Leo came as close to pleading as he dared. "She isn't like Shredder! When he wanted to retrieve that antigravity device that kept Beijing floating in the sky, he was not concerned for the millions who would have died. She came to us for help to prevent the death of those millions."

"To prevent the deaths of millions," Splinter repeated. "And also to prevent the Shredder from retrieving the device?"

Leo froze; his words wouldn't come-- he felt as if his father had disarmed him in front of his brothers-- why did she come to them? To save millions-- but the device-- he tried desperately to recall that entire conversation, that entire experience. If it hadn't been for Karai, the Turtles would still be in China, probably in some facility. After all, it wasn't like they could find their own ride home. Karai had helped them hide, and had made sure that when Shredder arranged for hers and Dr. Chaplin's return, they had been brought along as well.

They hadn't retrieved the device. Professor Honeycutt had disabled it, rendering it useless.

But had that been part of Karai's plan?

Splinter's sigh interrupted Leo's anguished thoughts.

"My son," he said tiredly. "My son-- you cannot trust this woman. Do you harbor feelings for her? Is this why you feel the need to risk yourself, to risk your brothers, in believing that you can trust her?"

Now Leo reeled from the unexpected question. That Raph had hinted this many times to him was one thing; to have his father making the same observation--

Leo bowed to the floor in submission.

"I swear to you, Master, that I do not feel anything for Karai except frustration and sadness at her serving the Shredder--"

"Leonardo! Do not toy with me! Do not swear to such a thing! Do you harbor feelings for this woman?"

Now Leo was weeping without making a sound.

"I-- I-- do not know."

The words were so faint, even Splinter with his sensitive ears barely heard it. He hung his head, his body sagged with those few words from his son's mouth.

It took all of his resolve, all of his strength-- and all of his love to say the next thing:

"I forbid you to contact this woman."

No threats; no "or else"; no question about it.

He didn't shout, he didn't sound angry, he carefully kept all trace of emotion out of his voice as he uttered those six words.

"Hai!" Leo hoarsely responded, bowing once again in submission, then arose and left.

Belatedly it occurred to him that his father had not made him swear to it.

This, more than anything, drove home the point: Splinter trusted him to obey his father's command.

Raph would have gone straight to whomever or whatever Splinter had forbidden him to avoid. Don would never have been in the position in the first place, unless it had to do with something so amazingly scientific that he would have deemed it worth the risk. Mikey would have found a roundabout way to "accidentally" do what he'd been forbidden to do. All of this he was certain of-- if they had not be asked to swear to it.

But not Leo. He knew that he could not go against his father's orders-- if only **because** he had not made him swear.

Leo shook his head ruefully; his father knew him too well.

"Raph would say it's because I'm such a Sensei's pet," he managed a small smile, but Leo knew deep down, Raph would also understand Leo's real reason for complying-- it was Leo's sense of bushido. It was Leo's character.

It was just Leo being Leo.

He'd gone against his father once before, when they had thought the Shredder finished, and the gang wars had started. He had made that whole episode their fault-- he now understood that he could not blame all of that on their "getting rid" of Shredder.

But he had also apologized, and his father had understood.

But this-- this was different to Splinter.

Leo sighed, and went to spy out H.Q.

And if I see Karai, I will not contact her, or draw attention to myself so that she knows I'm there, he swore-- to himself, if not to his father. I will honor Splinter's command.

Meanwhile, H.Q. is being spied on by other unseen observers.

The two men silently watched the comings and goings of many trucks. Most were directed to the back entrance. A few apparently special ones were waved through to a separate part of the complex, where they seemed to "vanish" from view after passing behind a large structure.

The first radioed in the report.

"Lots of movement, Sir, but nothing to help us discover what Saki is planning."

"Keep watching," the voice of Bishop came back faintly. "We have time. Our man on the inside will be in touch shortly. Just keep track of the trucks-- and any other 'interested' parties."

Bishop's second-in-command looked at his leader.

"Can this person be trusted, Sir?" he questioned hesitantly. "After all, he managed to contact us-- that concerns me, if I may say so."

"I agree," Bishop nodded. "It concerned me as well. But knowing now what I know of this-- man-- it makes sense that he would be able to find a way to contact us. I think that we may trust him-- as far as we dare. I'm willing to bet that his desire to revenge himself on our Mr. Saki will outweigh any thoughts of trying to double-cross us."

Then he turned away from his assistant, absently straightening his tie.

"If he knows what is good for him, that is. Besides, we have what he desperately wants. You could say we have him by the short hairs-- figuratively speaking," and he walked away, laughing.


	7. Detour: Shredder Again

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Thanks Llama for sticking with me on this misguided quest. I'm probably stupid for attempting this. I don't know why I just don't start up later in the plot-- but I "feel" the need to do this before I jump out of the continuity as it were and take off on my own quest to have Leo and Raph confront Bishop. I sort of wanted to briefly explore the Shredder/Karai relationship as well. So thanks again, and if you would please just be honest with me I'd be grateful.

TMNT, et. al, are owned by Mirage Publishing and 4Kids TV. I am owned by Fate to take care of my mother and never have Turtle children of my own...

Detour: Shredder Again

Farewells are usually sad.

Farewells are something that most people hate to participate in, even if that farewell will result in a better life, or situation. or job, or whatever for the person who is leaving.

Sometimes farewells are as permanent as the grave, unless one believes in the afterlife; then the farewell is just a temporary thing, like someone going on ahead, and you know that someday you will follow them, catch up with them, and be reunited with them.

For Karai, farewell held the promise of never seeing the being she regarded as her father again.

This party was not only a celebration of the recovery of the City; it was also a farewell for that most munificent of men Oroku Saki.

He was leaving for "home"-- Japan, everyone naturally assumed. Such a shame! Such a nice man, but on the other hand, it was good to know that whatever had prevented him from ever returning home had been rectified. He certainly seemed very happy.

And everyone could tell he was so very sorry to leave New York-- his adopted home.

Such a sincere, caring man! Everyone wished the best for him, and though they fully regretted it, no one begrudged his having to go.

Except perhaps Karai.

And knowing what she knew of him, having been raised by him, having been privy to nearly all of his personal life and true identity-- information even Hun had no inkling of-- she knew that he was not sorry to leave this city, leave this planet, leave even her behind.

She knew. She understood. She had been raised to understand. She expected nothing.

Yet she grieved.

She had been abandoned, alone, starving-- no one cared about her, and she cared for no one.

Her so-called parents could not handle their situation, their poverty, their hatred of having been forced to marry-- and the only child of that union had been a girl-- a useless girl.

Even her mother had been disappointed in not having a son, a son that would care for her, obey her, always be there for her in her old-age, as was the tradition.

As soon as her paternal grandparents were dead, both her father and mother were gone-- no regrets, no remorse, no farewells.

Alone, dirty, hungry, surviving as best as she could-- she needed no one!

And then, one day, out of the blue, during a rainstorm, when she could safely cry out loud in the abandoned place she had called home, where she could vent her tears and anger without anyone hearing due to the storm-- he had suddenly opened the door.

He had looked at this dirty, defiant, crying girl, huddled and shocked at her discovery, trying to look as if there were nothing wrong, trying to look as if the world didn't matter--

He had looked at her, and for some reason even unknown to him, he had taken her in.

What was it that Oroku Saki, the Shredder, the Utrom Ch'rell, living in this human world, had seen in this hungry, angry human girl? What was it that had caused him to take her in, let her train with him, raise her as his own?

Surely a purely cold-hearted person-- or Utrom-- wouldn't have bothered.

What had he seen in this girl that he hadn't seen in others? The streets were full of hungry orphans. The planet was full of hungry orphans. Why Karai? Why her?

Even Saki couldn't say. Even now, after all these years, he couldn't say what it was that had made him look in that door, look at that human child-- and feel-- pity? Did he really feel this? Was he even capable of such emotions?

A cold-hearted person recognizes those that are useful to them, but not as children.

And Ch'rell, though he hated to admit it, had actually come to love his persona here on Earth, here in Japan-- he had found "something" that not only fueled his revenge, but touched his spirit-- if, indeed, he could be said to have one.

And there was something about this human that told him it would be purely to his advantage to take her in.

And in spite of his inhuman nature, he took great pride in her loyalty, her accomplishments, her ruthlessness.

If only he could get rid of her odd beliefs about honor.

She was raised to honor her master without question, and she had always done so unfailingly-- until he had nearly been killed by those hated Turtles and their equally hated allies, his fellow Utroms.

She had come from Japan, where she was in charge of his operations there, to restore order to his New York empire-- the senseless gang war and power struggle between his remnants of the Foot, his right hand man Hun and the Purple Dragon Gang, and the Mob had nearly caused the U.S. Government to consider moving in and taking care of the entire situation-- but she had come from Japan, and had for some twisted reason dictated by Karma, made an alliance with the Turtles-- and had settled the war.

She had given her word of honor to Leonardo-- to the great warrior who had spurred his own advances of "cooperation".

She would be almost perfect if she weren't so human, he thought to himself.

But though he brooked no dissent, no disagreement from anyone-- he found at times that he tolerated from her more than he would others.

Did he indeed have "fatherly" feelings for this human?

And so, as he stood there, while the guests were still enjoying the night's activities, he and Karai were inside, making final preparations. He was excited-- he was finally leaving!

She was trying desperately to be what he wanted-- cold hearted, unfeeling, and in charge.

And yet she couldn't help asking him, "..and what of me, Father?"

She didn't cry-- she would never cry.

Shredder looked at her, and found himself actually praising her. He came as close to admitting his feelings for her as his ruthless nature allowed.

"My time on this planet has not been wasted," he had said. "I have forged an empire, and raised a daughter to rule it until my return."

She forced her weak emotional hint for love from her face, voice, and attitude, and once again became the dependable right arm of the Shredder, returning to the party to entertain the guests while he got the final preparations underway.

On the roof, Leo and Splinter were shocked to hear Don's report on his discovery.

"A space ship?" Leo had repeated, incredulous.

Splinter observed that Shredder had finally found a way to leave the planet.

"And that would be a bad thing?" Leo had asked, for the moment not fully seeing the big picture.

"The Utroms will be at risk if he can leave here and return home," Splinter had said, and Leo realized that this was what part of his father's vision had meant.

On another roof top, Bishop observed the departure of Saki and his daughter, the arrival of Leonardo and Splinter, and little else.

Something big is going down tonight, he thought. Something big that their "man" on the inside had failed to notify them of.

"I get the feeling someone is holding out on us," he mentioned to his second in command.

Don, Leatherhead, and the Professor (for some reason once again in Don's palm top) had managed to take over all security and lock down the place.

Casey and April, having done their jobs, were still blending in, waiting for whatever happened.

Raph, Mikey, Leo and Splinter had cornered Shredder in his library, and were pressing home their attack, making it their business to prevent him from leaving the planet.

And then Bishop stuck his greasy haired self into the mix.

"I don't know and I don't care what Saki is up to, blow this tunnel!"

And the guests above suddenly felt the earth shaking, heard the rumbling noise.

Karai was nothing if not prepared. A quick whisper to an attendant, a quick, humble speech to the Mayor and the guests, and the fireworks that they had planned to mask the sound of moving the rocket through the tunnel were set off, earlier than planned, but it couldn't be helped.

Bishop was positively drooling at the sight of the rocket.

"How was he able to do this?" he kept muttering, truly in awe at the sight-- and the possibilities. But why did Saki require a rocket? Who the hell cared? It was going to be his! There was no way in hell he was going to let that two-bit Yakuza reject take this baby anywhere! This was the jackpot!

How he would get it back to his own base of operations didn't matter-- he was going to have this!

As he was looking at his new prize, allowing himself to daydream of the possibilities, the shocked announcement from one of his subordinates broke through his fantasies--

"They've initiated launch sequence!"

"What? How?---"

And then a table nearly missed him! He looked up and saw that the "ceiling" was opening, and evidently the party had been going on above him. Chairs, plates, tables, a few unfortunate guests-- all fell into the silo, as the engines began to rumble to life.

Lower down, Shredder was desperately trying to get aboard. Hun and the elite showed up to stop the Turtles and their Master from preventing this situation--

Bishop and his crew found their way to the same place--

"Destroy them all!" he ordered gleefully! He would be rid of everyone! Especially those hated mutated freaks who had destroyed so much of his work! This was indeed his lucky day!

His men, without question, opened fire, and there was a three-way battle for a time.

Shredder, in spite of the many obstacle in his way, managed to make it to the platform to enter the ship-- until Donatello coated his exoskeleton with liquid nitrogen.

He was suddenly knocked from his "body"-- suddenly helpless against the Rat Master and his Ninja students-- suddenly about to be destroyed--

And what he'd seen all those years ago paid off.

Karai came out of nowhere, snatched him up, and sprinted for the open rocket door, ordering Chaplin to accelerate the launch.

Such a daughter!


	8. Detour: Shredder's End and Return Home

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Well, I've come to the edge of the known world, and am about to step off into unexplored territory. I am grateful for the feedback, thanks again.

TMNT and all of them are the property of Mirage; some of the references in this chapter are the property of Mirage and 4Kids TV; I am the property of no one.

Detour: End of Shredder and Return Home

Leo awoke in the dark comfort of his own room, and wondered once again had he been dreaming? They'd been back for several days; no, a week, he belatedly remembered. A whole week they'd been back in their own home, doing nothing but healing.

They'd made it onto Shredder's rocket; they'd managed to leave the Earth's gravity; the rocket was being shot at by Bishop-- where the hell did this guy get the power to fire missiles that the President of the United States normally has to get the permission of Congress to do? And the Shredder, in his extra-powerful exoskeleton, had nearly killed them all.

Mikey had two broken legs; Don faired better with just a busted arm. Raph's ribs were pretty bad off, he was lucky that Shredder had "cracked" his plastron across his knee, instead of his shell-side, he could have damaged his spine.

Poor Master Splinter! It was a miracle that he had survived the electrical shock, but his fur was missing in many places, and the burns were being aggravated by the growth of new fur-- his patience was being tried again and again by the combination of pain and itching.

And Leo? The shoulder wound was healing. The wound to his beliefs was having a harder time.

Karai could not be trusted. Isn't that what Splinter kept telling him? Isn't that what his brothers, especially Raph, and insisted time and again?

And yet, though she had prevented him from reaching Splinter, from helping his father, when the blast of yet another missile shook the rocket, sending her falling over the platform, he had reached out and caught her. He had saved her life.

"You are too kind," she had said, as he hauled her up-- whereupon she snatched his second katana from him and renewed her attack.

And then, as he was kicked from behind by Shredder, she had run him through with his own sword.

And yet, he vaguely remembered her preventing Shredder from finishing him off-- at least, he thinks that she did-- he remembered being picked up by Shredder, and then heard the clash of metal against metal. Karai had said something that pissed off her father, for Leo remembered hearing him shout "Karai, you go to far!" followed by a cry from her--

Then yet another missile struck the ship, and the doors closed, blocking Shredder and Karai from them; locking them in with the power core.

And as they sat there, realizing that there was no way they could fight and win, they'd decided the only logical solution was to destroy the ship-- and themselves along with it and Shredder.

It had been a hard decision, but they all knew it was their only chance to stop him once and for all. Don managed to get his palm top with Professor Honeycutt in it going, and the overload began.

And then, as the explosion began, it's like Leo's memory froze-- one second he is saying goodbye to his family in his mind-- the next he is waking up in a bed on an Utrom ship, being greeted by his badly burned father and grinning brothers, all amazed and delighted to be alive.

He sat up, scratching at the healing wound. The Utrom doctors had done an amazing job on him and his family, but he still needed the bandage for a few more days. He ached for his regular training routine, but he had had to settle for the simplest of katas and working out with his left arm only.

The trial had been almost a blur of testimony, testimony to the incalculable crimes of this Utrom known as Ch'rell-- Leo still couldn't conceive of the millions and millions of beings who had perished at the doings of this creature. And all the time, he kept his eyes on Karai, hoping to see her wake up to the fact that her "father" was evil pure and simple, hoping to see her react not with heartache and shame, but with revulsion; to see her finally reject this being entirely.

But all she had done was hang her head in shame; closed her eyes, and sighed, and hung her head in shame.

Ch'rell was exiled to some cold, icy asteroid type of place-- Leo could still hear his incredulous voice shrieking out defiantly "I am the Shredder! I am the Shredder! I am---"

That sound memory was overshadowed by the words of Karai, as she and Dr. Chaplin were being taken away, to be returned to Earth and "the proper authorities" as Mr. Mortu had put it:

"Leonardo! This is not what I wanted! This is not what I wanted!"

He went to the kitchen and found his father sitting there, drinking tea and trying desperately not to scratch.

"You are troubled, my son?"

"Yes, father. Karai's words haunt me."

"Her words, or their possible meaning?"

Leo smiled.

"A little of both. Do you think that she will continue to run the Foot? Do you think we will have to still come up against them?"

Splinter sighed, and visibly forced himself to clench his hands together-- he was itching like crazy!

"I think that she will take her father's place," he said. "I have no words to offer you on why I think this, other than that she will, out of honor, continue on this path."

"But surely after hearing all that he had done--" Leo tried once again to make it the way he wanted it to be; Karai would gain a better understanding of honor, and would give up this evil.

"My son, I asked you this question once, and you said you did not know," Splinter gently interrupted. "I will ask it again, and I do not expect you to answer it to me. But you need to answer it to yourself; do you harbor feelings for this woman?"

Then he got up with an exasperated sigh.

"I am going to try the bath lotion Miss O'Neal recommended," he said, kissing his son on the forehead. "I feel that I shall go mad if this incessant itching does not stop. I shall be in the bathtub-- again. I like bathing, but I am beginning to be constantly wrinkled as well as itchy."

Leo sat there, thinking of this question again. Did he have feelings for Karai?

He didn't get to pursue it far-- Raph was joining him, looking for something to kill the pain in his chest.

"Damn that bastard to hell," he swore, rummaging for the pain killers. "I forgot and stretched while yawning-- felt as if he'd cracked me again."

"Sorry bro," Leo sympathized, getting Raph some water to wash the pills down with. "I feel kind of like it was my fault."

"It was," Raph nodded, swallowing. "You should have let her fall and taken out the Shredder."

"I know," he responded. "I should have let her fall."

But Leo was smiling. He knew that Raph was not condemning him for saving her. He was not blaming Leo, or hating Leo for what had happened.

After all, they were alive! They were home! And the Shredder, who

had both directly and indirectly been a part of their lives, indeed, part of their existence-- the Shredder was finally finished!

They had all speculated on the implications of this. For Don, there would be more time to research, to study, to invent, and less time needed to patrol, to battle.

Mike envisioned endless hours of mindless teenage fun-- "at last, I can be a real boy!"

"Right, Pinocchio!" Raph had laughed sarcastically.

Raph and Leo for some reason were not looking forward to downtime. Both, though temperamentally different, preferred the Ninja lifestyle.

Well, to be honest, Raph just enjoyed busting heads, kicking ass, and stuff like that. After all, there were always the Purple Dragons to deal with. He and Casey could still have some good old-fashioned fun-- that is, if April let's him off his leash once in a while, Casey had sadly whispered to Raph a few days after their return.

And there was still the matter of Bishop facing them. He had sworn, that night that they'd rescued Splinter and destroyed all his clones and his lab, that he'd get revenge on all of them.

This had made Leo and Raph extremely happy. It justified to them their goal.

"Man! I hope these ribs heal fast! We still got unfinished business to deal with," Raph yawned, trying not to aggravate his injuries in the process. " 'Course, with all the grief Bishop's 'agency' has suddenly found itself in over this little incident, we may not get the chance to deal with him."

For the actions of what had gone down in New York City had not escaped world attention. It's kind of hard to ignore a gigantic rocket rising out of the ground in one of the more fashionable locations of town, not to mention the helicopters, the gunfire, the commando teams.

They had managed to smooth over the last two actions where missiles and helicopters and weapons had been used all over the city by citing terrorism, but this time there was no getting around the fact that there was this group who were funded by the government, answerable to the government, representing the government, whose purpose-- as the press quickly found out and trumpeted to the world-- was the hunt for aliens from outer space.

Late night shows had a field day with "men in black" jokes. Enterprising t-shirt hawkers had come up with hot-selling items like "Don't shoot me, I'm E.T.!" and "Illegal Alien from Mars" (or whatever planet you wanted).

And Bishop's name was food for discussion-- something the man had never intended!

He had been raked over the coals by everyone from his immediate superior to the President of the United States. The ACLU was threatening lawsuits right, left and center. Civil rights groups were grabbing air space on TV condemning his group's "mission".

But he withstood it all. After all, he'd come too far, worked too hard to lose it all to something a trivial as public opinion.

There was no way this agency was going to be dismantled. He would make sure of that. He was going to achieve his life's work, and it didn't matter who tried to stand in front of him-- they would be eliminated one way or the other.

And now, with Baxter Stockman working for him, things were going to be a whole lot better.

"I will be successful," he murmured to himself, as he and his team slowly weathered the storm of public opinion and congressional investigations.

The Mayor of New York was also fodder for the comedians-- his good friend Oroku Saki had apparently been a criminal of the highest order; indeed, had been, it seemed, an alien from another planet! He knew that there was no way he would escape the blame for unknowingly being involved with this "man", and resigned himself to the early retirement of his future political career.

And Karai?

The authorities-- stunned by the contact with yet another alien government whose representatives had specifically turned over two "members of the human race" for appropriate punishment-- were still trying to decide what to do with Karai and Chaplin.

But thanks to the power of her lawyers, they were out and about in no time.

And she immediately took up the leadership her father had groomed her for.

"This is not what I wanted!" she recalled her words to Leonardo. Yet she slipped easily into her roll as Oroku Saki's daughter and set about clearing up rumors, challenging stories, and putting it about that her much maligned father had been the obsessive target of bitter rivals, rivals that had spent a considerable amount of time and money to make her father appear to be this evil criminal.

And she took immediate control of the Foot.

Leo and Raph need not worry-- there would be plenty of action to come.


	9. Frankenstein Wannabe Part A

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Hi! And now it begins-- my attempt to write the rest of this story without relying on previous or coming episodes! I am nervous-- and excited. I almost decided to scrap it, but while waiting forever and ever today in the waiting room of my mother's doctor (after a long day of school), I was thinking of Mikey's part in this story further on-- and as I was reflecting on the plot I'd planned, I'd recalled some of "Bishop's Gambit"-- and a totally new idea began to creep into my mind. I think it may have been "Mikey" whispering to me, saying "this is a way cooler idea, dudette! It's so totally ME!" So we will see in the coming chapters.

Thanks for the support, especially Llama and Splinter! Oh, and to Doppleganger33, I completely understand your view regarding Splinter in chapter two-- I've read a lot of stuff here that went against my own views of the characters as well. I truly appreciated the comments, however!

TMNT are owned by Mirage. I'm guessing Bishop is, as well, though probably 4Kids can put in a claim also. The quote is from Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley, and I believe it is in the public domain. I, too, am in the public domain, but I can be a bit cranky, so watch out how you use me.

Frankenstein Wannabe

Mikey sighed. Again.

"I'm so bored!" he whined to no one, for no one was in his room.

It had been several weeks since their return from the Utrom home world-- from their return from almost certain death. Michelangelo still had a hard time wrapping his mind and memory around that entire incident. No matter how many times the Utroms, and then Donatello, had explained the theory of the stasis bubble to him, he still kept coming back to the same question:

"Yeah, but-- how did they get us off that ship when it was exploding all over the place like that?"

Don had finally given up in almost blood-boiling frustration.

"Because the Utroms were smarter than Shredder," Raph had finally said, and Mike suddenly understood.

"Ohhh!" he had nodded, and been happy.

But sometimes it did still nag at him, mainly because he was so bored!

His legs were healing slowly. Don's arm and Raph's ribs had also been broken, but the skills and technology of the Utroms had aided them in healing quickly.

Mikey's legs, however, had been pretty messed up, and in spite of the reassurances of the Utrom doctors as well as Mr. Mortu and Master Splinter, Mike was concerned that he was still bedridden with both legs in casts, while even Leo was back at training. He was worried that he'd never walk again, to tell the truth, but he knew better than to say that aloud to any one, not even Sensei.

But he knew, deep down, that he was only truly worried because he was so bored.

"I'm bored!" he whined again to no one.

He didn't expect an answer, which was just as well, as he didn't get one.

He searched the reading material that April had brought over, once his supply of comics failed to entertain him anymore, and he sighed a third time-- this time in disbelief. She had left him all these books that simply screamed "Chick reading!"

"_Wuthering Heights_? _How Green Was My Valley_? _Black Beauty_?" he remembered reading the titles with distaste as she had first handed them to him. "_Pride and Prejudice_? _Romeo and Juliet_? Hey, what's this-- _Lethal Seduction_--"

Where upon April, blushing furiously, had snatched that particular book away from Mikey so quickly he received a paper cut.

There was no way in hell he was reading all this old-fashioned romance crap, no matter how bored to death he was. Then one title caught his attention-- _Frankenstein_.

"Oh, it's the original," she had explained, when he'd first asked about it, remembering the old movie that had scared him as a turtle tot but now was so funny it was hard to believe it had given him nightmares. "The book not the same as the movie." And he could believe it. The first paragraph alone had him scratching his head:

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"I am by birth a Genevese; and my family is one of the most distinguished of that republic. My ancestors had been for many years counsellors and syndics; and my father had filled several public situations with honour and reputation. He was respected by all who knew him for his integrity and indefatigable attention to public business. He passed his younger days perpetually occupied by the affairs of his country; a variety of circumstances had prevented his marrying early, nor was it until the decline of life that he became a husband and the father of a family."

He'd tried to read further, determined to conquer this challenge that April had presented him with, but the style of writing was so old-fashioned, so wordy, so-- so-- unfamiliar, that he had given up after the first few chapters.

But now, he was bored! His games were boring, his comics were boring, his life was boring. The guys were training, even Leo, though his right arm still gave him trouble. And they were actually having run-ins with Purple Dragons and some recalcitrant Foot ninja-- seems a "fake Shredder" was challenging Karai's authority. But his brothers had sided with Karai, and she was not only now in control of all operations, but had declared a permanent truce with his family.

But there were still the Dragons, and others out there-- especially Bishop--

Mikey shuddered at the sudden thought of that person. He had never imagined, even after all the horror movies he'd watched over and over and over and over and over again, that such a person could exist in real life; a person bent on creating a race of mutated "super soldiers"-- creating Life as it were-- like _Frankenstein_--

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Frankenstein-- yeah.

So Mike gave up to boredom, picked up the book, and began to determinedly struggle his way through it. Anything was better than thinking about Bishop!

In the dojo, Master Splinter, his fur mostly back now (though the guys could see the odd thin spot here and there, but out of kindness they never mentioned it to their Sensei-- he was rather touchy on the subject of his appearance in that respect) was finishing up the day's practice with his three mobile students. As the meditation for the day concluded, he commended them all on the work they've done since their return.

"My sons, you have all done well, in spite of the injuries you sustained at the hands of our old enemy," he said yet again. "And your recovery seems complete. Do not, however, push yourselves too hard, for injuries such as yours' are easily aggravated by overwork."

Raph and Leo kept their faces void of all emotion, but they knew the words were directed at them. As soon as they'd been allowed to restart training, they'd done so with one goal in mind: Bishop.

Raph had been perfecting his throwing skills-- trying to hit the target with his sai from impossible angles, without telegraphing his moves-- that had been the most dangerous, for in recent days Leo had been the target. Armed with both katana and ready to deflect the thrown sai, Leo had managed to anticipate Raph's moves, but it was getting harder to do so-- which filled them both with a sense of accomplishment.

"If I can get so that even Bishop don't see it comin', it'll be a great help," Raph grinned at Leo. "But I think you should start wearin' the protective gear-- or else I should start throwin' those shortened bokken you made for me."

Leo shook his head.

"I know that you're going to attack me, so I'm not worried. You're getting hard to predict, so that means Bishop will be caught unawares-- he just has to be! He can't be superhuman."

They both would say this over and over, in spite of that image of Bishop hanging from the hook; that sound of his threat as he somehow got off of it, and quickly made his way up that ladder, trailing blood.

Thinking of that made them both smile suddenly in a mutual memory-- Don had been belatedly livid that he hadn't thought to get a sample of Bishop's blood for analysis-- "I so want to see what **his** DNA has been up to," he'd complained, kicking himself mentally for not taking the opportunity to get a scientific edge on their enemy.

Then it was Leo's turn-- fencing with Raph was always the best, for Raph knew how to fight dirty, and Leo needed to be able to successfully handle this. Bishop, as they knew to their chagrin, did not play fair.

Splinter, observing this latest extra training session, wondered again at their determination, now that Shredder was no more. He watched for several minutes without comment, and then made a decision.

"My sons," he said, as they took a break from the practice-- Leo had successfully disarmed Raph though Raph had used a particularly dirty trick that took Splinter's breath away.

They looked at their father, and Splinter for a brief second thought he saw guilt on their faces; but he must have been mistaken, for they both attended him at once, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. "My sons, please tell me honestly. Why do you two train in this manner? You have done so since before we were drawn into the business with Shredder. Now that you are healed, you are at it again. Please tell me what is in your hearts."

They knew this time was coming. They fully expected that they would have to tell their father something. They had agreed ahead of time what the answer was to be. So, they finally told him-- what they dared to tell him, that is.

"Sensei, we need to be ready for Bishop," Leo said sincerely if not entirely honestly. "He is skilled, and we need to be more so."

Splinter nodded slowly; having fought against this man himself, he knew that Bishop was a master of fighting skills. Splinter had been the only one of them to be able to confront him one-on-one. Both times, Bishop had one way or the other escaped, and the fight had never been finished. Splinter knew that he was a formidable opponent.

"We know that he will not give up on us," Raph continued his part-- mostly, again, the honest truth-- they just withheld a part of it, that's all. "He's a nut job, and he swore he'd pay us back. We want to be able to stop that."

Again, Splinter nodded. He, too, remembered those words of Bishop the night his sons had come for him in that laboratory of horrendous evil; he, too, remembered the joy in Bishop's voice when he'd ordered his men to kill everyone regardless, that night at the Shredder's.

"You are right, my sons," he finally sighed. "You are right, both of you. I only wish your brothers were up to the extra training as well. Yes, you must both continue this extra practice. But my sons, be mindful of your injuries-- and your motives."

And with that, he left them to wonder if he'd guessed their plans.

Meanwhile...

Bishop had weathered the storm of controversy over his organization's mission. It still amazed him that, after the attack of the Triceratons, along with the war that was being fought by them with another group called the Federation, that the majority of the human race seemed reluctant to realize the dangerous threat facing them from these alien life forms!

"We are sweating blood to protect them, and they want to hold house warming parties for them," he growled to his second-in-command.

It hadn't helped matters that now another alien government had made contact with the Earth-- the United States, to be exact, as well as Japan, as there had been some concern to address the right authorities-- regarding the return of two humans to the planet; two humans who had some how been involved in a plot to overthrow this same planet's government through violent revolution.

Bishop, in spite of everything that had taken place at Saki's, was still amazed to learn that Karai and this Dr. Chaplin had been involved in such a scheme.

He had been even more embarrassed to learn that Oroku Saki himself had actually been one of these "Utrom" as they are called-- he thought he'd known everything about this being.

"Oh, well, a minor flaw that I do not intend to repeat," he had tried to shrug it off, but it still rankled his soul that he'd dropped the ball on this one.

Bishop was also counting his blessings. Those cursed mutated freaks, the Turtles, and their equally cursed yet highly desired for his DNA Rat Master had destroyed years of work and research-- had deprived him of his prototype, his Slayer-- and he had been rather despondent over the loss.

And then, miracle of miracles, in the midst of all the grilling he was undergoing over this fiasco with what went down in New York City, his prototype had been discovered by a salvage crew-- the only thing left of his underground clone lab-- floating undisturbed and undiscovered in the East River, still tightly sealed in the container of bio-suspension fluid!

It had been a relatively simple task to revive his creation, to start training it for a special mission, one that would give him what he needed to fulfill his goal and grant him revenge at the same time: the destruction of those cursed Turtles and the recapture of the mutant rat Splinter!


	10. Frankenstein Wannabe Part B

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I'm posting two short chapters tonight. This is the longest part-- it's turning into a novel of its own. I read something today regarding one of the upcoming season shows, and it sort of made me panic. After all, my intent is to leave the continuity behind. But I read about an episode where Bishop captures them all this season-- so I got into high writing gear. I am writing this part as planned, regardless of whatever they have planned for this season. I hope this doesn't disappoint.

TMNT and various evil villians are owned by Mirage. That's all there is to it.

Frankenstein Wannabe Part B

"Mikey! Be careful of that leg!" Leo admonished him yet again.

Mike bit back several snappy replies, sighed instead, and stopped what he'd been doing; kicking the punching bag for practice with his right.

"Leo, it's fine," he patiently said, trying desperately to keep the childish whine out of his voice-- for the fifth time today.

Since the casts had come off, he'd been nearly smothered by everyone, and it was driving him mad. His injuries had been the slowest to heal, and he had been so excited when Professor Honeycutt, under the directions of some Utrom doctor he'd been in contact with, had removed the casts so Mike could finally get up and really walk, he'd jumped up without support and had nearly wrecked the right one by falling heavily.

"Now, Michelangelo," Honeycutt had chided him. "You must take it easy. Your muscles are very weak from inactivity, and they are not going to support you easily for some time."

"My son, you must rebuild your strength slowly," he kept hearing on a daily basis from Splinter, when some training exercise proved too much for him, and he would with great embarrassment collapse to the floor, desperately trying to keep from crying in frustration.

"Jeeze, Mikey, take it easy, will ya?" even Raph was chiding him, when he tried jumping from the ladder that lead to the upstairs to the floor as he usually did when it time to eat-- and ended up nearly breaking his right leg again as he hit the ground heavily and sharp pains had shot through him, causing-- you guessed it-- another fall on his shell.

"Mikey, you're not going to get stronger by reinjuring yourself," Don had tried to explain, and had provided him one boring night with a lot of information on bones, muscles, traumatic injuries, rehabilitation, and statistics on the high probability of complete recovery.

Yet Mikey uncharacteristically would listen without saying anything, not so much as a whine. He would vaguely sigh, or answer as politely as possible. Even he couldn't understand it.

Well, to tell the truth-- he sort of did understand.

He had managed, during the first few weeks after the battle with Shredder, to overhear enough to know that they had all feared for his right leg. Both had been badly damaged, but they had apparently kept from him just how bad the right one had been injured. Even the Utrom doctors, he discovered, had feared that they would not be able to save it. And yet they had.

It had taken every bit of their advanced skill and a lot of luck-- but they had saved the leg.

And everyone knew it "except him"-- like he would be too sensitive to handle the truth, he had sniffed with hurt pride upon discovery. So he had tried harder than any one to regain his strength-- and at the same time, had allowed them to ride him morning, noon, and night regarding it-- he realized just how much they'd worried about him, so how could he complain?

No matter how annoying it was?

And every time he was forced to sit and watch training while the others carried on full force, he would pull out the much-used copy of _Frankenstein_ and reread sections of it.

He'd struggled his way through it, and in spite of the language he had come to truly enjoy the story. He sort of felt sorry for the Monster, even though he ended up killing so many out of vengeance. And he had thought that Victor was to be pitied-- until it began to dawn on him that he had brought so much of this on himself by sheer heartlessness.

He had created a hideous creature just to prove he could-- and then had rejected it.

He sort of understood the rejection part-- after all, most of the world would reject him and his brothers. Some would welcome them, as Casey, April, Silver Sentry and others of the "super hero" community had come to; some would be like Bishop, positively drooling at the chance to slice and dice and examine every last piece of them under high-powered microscopes.

Bishop. The more he came to understand the characters in the story, the more he saw Bishop in Victor Frankenstein-- except for the humanity part. Mike was sure that Agent Bishop was the most inhuman human that could possibly live. Even Hun had more human emotion and feeling than Bishop.

"You readin' that again?" Raph's voice cut through his thoughts. Mike looked up to see that practice was over for the afternoon.

"Well, it's not like I have much to do, is there?" he replied, a trace of his old self showing through.

"You're scarin' me, Mikey," Raph shook his head, helping his brother stand up and heading to the showers. "You're not parked in front of the TV channel surfin', and you're not playin' video games. You're readin' a really old book-- again!"

Mike didn't answer. He had tried to talk with each of his brothers about the book, but each attempt had been unsuccessful to say the least.

Raph: "Get the hell away from me with that."

Leo: "I found the lack of honor in Victor Frankenstein rather troubling-- he allowed a poor maid to be hung for his own little brother's murder, when he knew for a fact that the Monster had been the one to do it, and his only reason for keeping quiet was because of the dishonor it would bring upon himself if everyone knew what he'd created."

Don: "There's no way that could possibly happen in real life-- that Shelley woman didn't know much about Science. All the body parts would have been way past the sell-by date."

Only Master Splinter had understood and tolerated Mike's questions and thoughts about the story; he was the only one who had tried to answer Mike's concerns and requests for clarity.

"But why should anyone really feel sorry for the Monster, Sensei?" he had asked one night. "I mean, I **sort** of feel sorry for him, but he was so evil. Was he really human? How could he be human and do all that?"

"There are those who would say that the Monster was indeed more 'human' than the man who had so callously created him," he had replied, and Mike spent many days pondering this pronouncement. It made him think of one of the songs from Raph's Rob Zombie CD-- "More Human than Human". Not the words, of course-- just that phrase.

More human than human.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bishop smiled with satisfaction. His Slayer was in top form.

If only he could say the same for the six "super soldiers" he'd developed.

Unlike the Slayer, they had started out as human. He had tried various DNA experiments with them, using what he still had of the Rat Splinter's blood and fluids, as well as some of what the Turtles had so unwillingly provided.

They were fast and powerful-- but not too stable. These six "volunteers" had managed to survive the genetic manipulations the longest. The others...

Well, their families were being well-provided for.

He really needed more of that Rat's DNA-- his fluids-- his blood--

And the Slayer was going to help get it for him.

Since the fiasco with Saki, Bishop had managed to survive losing everything he'd worked for-- but his program had been sadly reduced. And there was constant scrutiny on top of it. It had been quite a battle of wills to keep the manner of those mysterious deaths of all those "volunteers" a secret from their families, much less the United States Government.

He gazed at one of the monitors which had on the world news. In Japan, the new Utrom ambassador was being feted and treated like royalty.

The Utroms, from long experience on Earth, coupled with their experiences in New York concerning not only their hasty departure earlier (A/N: see "Secret Origins") but their recently acquired knowledge of Bishop and his organization, had decided that Japan, where they'd spent the most of their enforced exile, was the place to begin their overtures of friendship with the peoples of Earth.

The Japanese were so honored and excited! The history alone that the the Utroms could provide regarding ancient Japan (from first hand experiences!) was so mind-boggling, every historian in the country was in line to question them-- no matter how many months in advance they had to book an audience!

The Utroms had also, to facilitate the friendly feelings, set up a demonstration of their memory pods-- the things where all Utrom memory, experience, and so forth was collected and catalogued. When the first chosen historians were given the opportunity to experience Japanese history through the "eyes" of these peaceful yet determined aliens, they were immediately declared National Treasures, and everyone vowed to endure their safety.

Bishop sighed with disgust.

"They have no idea... no idea what will come of this," he muttered once again, loud enough for everyone to hear-- but they'd been hearing it for so long, they pretended to not notice.

Oh, they didn't show indifference! Bishop was not a man to be crossed.

"They will learn the hard way," he muttered, as he turned his eyes to his pride and joy, his Creation. "And then they will be begging for help."

The Slayer stood, impassive as ever, awaiting orders.

"Now, my friend, we must go hunting," he said to him, a twisted smile on his face. "We have a few items to collect for the next phase of our research."

And, beckoning the Slayer, Bishop walked out of the room, closely followed by his prototype.


	11. Frankenstein Wannabe Part C

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Here is more. Thanks for all your comments. TMNT aren't mine. But you already knew that. Oreo cookies are owned by Nabisco and the Double Stuf ones are the bestest of all!

Frankenstein Wannabe Part C

The guys came to the place because of some disturbing rumors. They'd heard that some "odd things" were being discovered at an apparently abandoned sight that many suspected had belonged to the person who'd launched the rocket from the middle of New York. They'd also heard that the Purple Dragons were behind it.

They knew, of course, that it wasn't a place that had belonged to Shredder-- it was the remains of Bishop's clone lab, where they'd come so long ago to rescue Master Splinter. Yes, they knew who it had truly belonged to. But Leo was curious as to why it was being bandied about as being a former lab of the Foot.

Don had been here enough with Leatherhead and Professor Honeycutt, scrounging through the debris, to doubt that anything of importance had been found; but still, as he told Leo, you never know-- it might be worth a look at.

Karai also knew that it wasn't a Foot lab. And though she wasn't certain that Hun was involved, she highly doubted it.

"He doesn't have the intelligence to loot such a place," she said with such disdain that Leo had smiled.

She also warned Leo that to investigate it would be stupid.

"You know that it is a trap. You know that it is a former secret laboratory of Agent Bishop," she told him the night before, during a brief and secret meeting.

"I know that I must investigate it," he had replied. "I know that I must keep my family and my Master safe-- from whomever threatens them. If Bishop is trying to lure us out, I need to find out all I can-- hopefully without accommodating him by falling for it. I owe him." And she didn't try to dissuade him anymore.

But she determined to find out more herself. She may be honor-bound to follow her father's path, but she still would aid this person who had borne him so much ill-will.

She "owed" him-- in a different way than he "owed" Bishop.

So they had shown up via the original tunnel they'd used when coming in the train car. There was evidence of water damage, but nothing much else remained. Whatever hadn't been destroyed in the explosions had been taken care of by any "cleanup crews".

"Why are we here again?" Mikey asked nervously. Raph rolled his eyes.

"Well, **we're** here because Fearless Leader wants to check out some rumors about Bishop, but **you're **here 'cause you whined about being left behind."

Mikey took a deep breath.

"Look," he calmly said, to the surprise of all. "You're right. I'm tired of being left behind. And I'm tired of being babied. I've healed. I'm part of this family. I want to be involved."

They looked at him with newfound admiration, mixed with shock. He had sounded so-- so-- **mature**.

"Okay, Mike. Point taken," Leo acknowledged. "Now, let's spread out and find out if the Dragons are really salvaging this place."

"Or if it's a Bishop trap," Raph couldn't help adding.

"But why?" Mikey couldn't help whining.

They ignored him and moved out, each equipped with a waterproof sack of goodies that Don had whipped up.

"After all, parts of the place may still be flooded," he'd said, "and what I've put in these will be helpful."

Mike had eagerly inspected the contents-- night vision goggles, electric shock shuirken, smoke bombs, portable breathing devises, first aid kits, Oreo cookies--

"Oreo cookies?" Raph had asked, looking at Don.

"Well, for quick energy," he had lamely said.

Mike quickly ate his.

"Hmmmm! Double Stuf ones!" he had enthusiastically sighed.

"Mikey, those were for emergencies," Don chided him.

"Well, it **was** an emergency," Mike defended his actions. "I was in danger of panicking, and Oreos are a great way to calm down."

Now this sounded like their old, familiar Michelangelo!

They split up in teams of twos, and spent the better part of the night searching the area. But nothing looked like what Leo had been hearing.

"Really, Leo, this is a waste of time," Don was saying for the tenth time. "Or else a colossal trap. Let's get out of here."

Leo sighed. He was certain there was something more to it than just a mere trap.

They met up with Raph and Mike on a lower level.

"Not much here worth takin'," Raph was saying, when an explosion rocked the room-- from a distance-- they all swayed but kept their feet-- except Mike, who went down on one knee despite a desperate attempt to stay standing.

"We told you to stay home," Don nagged him, as Mike, obviously in pain as well as embarrassed, fought as hard as he could to keep the extent of the hurt out of his face.

"Come on," Leo commanded, and they made their way through the labyrinth of corridors and tunnels towards what they felt was the direction of the explosion.

"Why are we going towards an explosion?" Mikey, the pain subsiding, finally was able to voice in his usual manner.

Before he could receive a proper response, Leo held up a hand, and they faded into the background, alert.

The corridor they'd been traveling now emptied out onto a large chamber that seemed to have many exits. On the main floor was Bishop and about ten of his henchmen, wiring certain tunnels it seemed.

"Hurry up, gentlemen," he was saying. "I want to be ready when our guests arrive."

"Sir, all indications are they are nearby," reported one of the many flunkies.

Don and Mike looked rather nervous at this pronouncement. They turned to their brothers-- and for some reason froze.

The look on Raph's face and the look on Leo's were identical-- and indescribable.

Twin masks of Death, Mike for some reason thought.

Something's up, Don thought. Something's up and they're not telling us...

And then, without warning, the Slayer was upon them!

All four, caught off guard, were sent slamming down to the floor where Bishop and his crew were standing. All, even Bishop, looked surprised at this sudden appearance. But he recovered nicely.

"Ah, gentlemen," he purred. "I am so tempted to use the phrase 'how nice of you to drop in', but I would like to avoid such flippancy."

There was no time to respond-- the Slayer was on them, and the men with Bishop were joining in.

They didn't join in for long. Leo and Raph each killed three before the fight could really get started. The remaining four backed away as fast as possible.

They had weapons, but they didn't want to use them. The room had many powerful explosives stored there-- Bishop's task that night had been to finish destroying possible evidence. The survivors were not keen on dying, no matter how much Bishop might urge them. Their coworkers had died so quickly!

Bishop looked on in a detached manner, as if watching a tournament, judging with a critical eye the actions of the turtles versus his Creation.

"Continue with the work," he calmly ordered the remaining four, eyes on the struggles of these mutated freaks against his pride and joy. The men hesitantly resumed wiring a few more terminals.

"You may as well give up and let the end be quick," Bishop advised the guys. The Slayer was making quite a job of them.

Raph was bleeding from several places where the blows the Slayer had landed had actually cut his skin. Don was lying in a corner, bo staff broken in three places, trying to keep from losing consciousness. Leo and the Slayer were facing off, when Mikey dived in front of his brother, distracting the creature and knocking it suddenly backwards into Bishop.

And then Bishop landed on one of the plungers and----

The explosion, unintended until the room had been cleared, rocked everyone to the floor. Dust, smoke, dirt, heat, noise-- everything was a blur to everyone. Each being there, man or turtle, was sure the end had come.

But it hadn't. The full compliment of explosives had not been wired to the detonators just yet-- they had been in the process when the Turtles had been knocked into the room by the Slayer.

There was much coughing, gasping, cursing. There was much calling of names on both sides.

Don managed to dig out his night vision goggles, and they helped him see through the airborne debris. His breathing device came in handy, and with the goggles he could see that Leo and Raph, though they hadn't put on their own goggles, had managed to get out the air devises.

Bishop, gasping and wheezing, was beside himself with fury-- and alone.

Don again saw the same indescribable look on his two brothers' faces-- he saw them glance at each other, weapons ready, and then as one they headed for Bishop-- and something they couldn't see--

"Guys!" Don shouted, pulling the mask from his face. "Guys! There's a hole in the floor! Don't move! You're headed right for it!"

Sure enough, as the dust and smoke thinned, they could see the gigantic hole in the floor, separating them from their intended target.

Bishop was livid on the inside-- six of his men gone, his plans to trap the Turtles prematurely sprung without the desired results, and his Slayer strangely silent.

"Well, freaks, looks as if we are not meant to spend some time together," he managed, brushing dust from his ever present black coat. "I had hoped to persuade you to join me for a few days."

"Leo," Don suddenly said, before he or Raph could respond to Bishop's challenge. "Leo-- I can't find Mike!"

Cold panic gripped all three of them.

And they looked down into the dark hole in the floor.

"Sir," a muffled voice sounded from another tunnel. "The Slayer is missing. His signal indicates he is a level below us-- and moving away steadily, north/northeast. He appears to be following something. I'm picking up unidentified movement."

"Well," Bishop was quick to realize. "Perhaps one of you will be spending some time with me-- let's go see if we can catch up with our future guest, gentlemen."

Raph without thinking threw one his sai at Bishop. The agent realized at the last second what was happening-- he moved, but not enough. Raph drew first blood.

"You---" Bishop, regardless of the dangers, grabbed a gun from one of his men and started firing. The guys managed to escape, and Bishop's men managed to get him to calm down.

Bishop hated losing control like that. Those freaks! But he got back in control of himself and ordered his remaining men to follow him into one of the tunnels.

"Nuts. I didn't kill him," Raph hoarsely whispered to Leo, as they came out of hiding.

"Mikey!" Don uselessly was yelling into the hole. He knew it was stupid-- if what Bishop's man had said was true, Mikey was somewhere down there heading away from them, being chased by that monster.

"Don, we'll find him," Leo assured him, while Raph found his way to the other side to Bertie his sai. He came back with a grim souvenir.

"Here, Donnie," he said, offering his blood-coated sai to his brother. "I got you some Bishop DNA."


	12. Frankenstein Wannabe Part D

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This is long. I hope I don't lose you all by updating so much tonight, but all four of these chapters were pretty much one major chapter. Thanks again for everything. Everyone in the story is owned by Mirage except for Frankestein which is just as well...

Frankenstein Wannabe Part D

Mike barely remembered the explosion. He barely remembered much of anything at the moment. All he did know was that one minute he was in this large chamber with his bros, and the next he was falling and smothering and receiving many blows to the body--

And then he was running for his life.

He suddenly realized as he was running blindly down this tunnel that he was being chased by the Slayer.

He was so foggy on the details of how it'd started. As he ran, he kept trying to remember just what the hell led up to this particular situation. He kept trying to reason it out, but just as he would start to make sense of it, he would suddenly be in a fight for his life.

The Slayer had him. The Slayer, though it could heal, had suffered enough damage in the explosion and fall to give Mike a bit of hope. But he still couldn't shake this thing.

Or beat it.

The dark wasn't helping. The Slayer saw better in the dark than Mikey did. He vaguely knew that when the dust and smoke had settled around them, the Slayer had looked surprised to see Mike so close-- perhaps he couldn't see through all that stuff.

Mike had been surprised to see him as well.

Without a thought, he had smashed both 'chuks into the eyes of the Slayer, and then run like hell.

After a while, he finally "came to" himself, and realized that he was running away from his family.

"Mikey, you chucklehead," he said to himself. "Now what are you going to do?"

All the time he could feel the bag smacking against him. For some reason, he remembered that when Don had first handed him the bag, he'd put the copy of _Frankenstein_ into it-- funny that he didn't remember until then that he'd done that.

Funny that he'd done a lot of stuff in his life. Of the four of them, he seemed to be the one to do the dumbest things. Maybe they were right-- maybe he was a baby after all. Maybe he never mutated past the age of five. Wonder what they'd think in the Battle Nexus to realize that a kid had beaten all comers to become the Battle Nexus champion--

Mike suddenly stopped and put a hand to his head. What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn't focus.

Must have hit his head. Yeah, that was it. He must have hit his head when he was running from the Monster that Frankenstein had created out of-- Mike! Snap out of it! You're running from the Slayer!

As if to confirm this, the Slayer had suddenly caught up with him. Mike fought without thinking, purely on instinct. He thought of nothing but fighting as he'd been taught to by Master Splinter. He thought of nothing but fighting for his life. The entire thing was a blur of battling, and then he was running again, running on an increasingly weakening right leg-- he should have never come with his brothers. They kept telling him to stay home, to read his book, to wait until his leg grew back---

Again he mentally slapped himself. What was wrong? He couldn't afford to lose his concentration. He--

Bam! Once again the Slayer was on him. Once again he used every instinctive skill drilled into him by Master Splinter. Once again he drew on every possible battle memory to aid him.

And once again he escaped.

This went on for who knew how long. Mike was unable to judge the time-- hours-- days-- weeks--

He was the Monster, being pursued by Victor Frankenstein...

He was Mikey, being pursued by the Slayer...

He was--

Bam!

The battle continued. Mikey would fight until he could get away, and then escaped, only to be hunted down once again.

"Damn! He's gonna finish me if something doesn't happen," he gasped to himself, on his third run down a tunnel from wriggling away from the Slayer.

He absently searched through the waterproof bag of stuff that Don had given him, but his hand couldn't find the night vision goggles he'd made for all of them.

"Probably broken anyway in that fall," he murmured, one hand touching the tunnel wall as he ran, stumbling over the debris littering the floor, glancing every now and then behind him.

Not that it mattered, considering that the Slayer could cloak himself, like the foot tech Stockman had created.

As he stumbled on, he remembered the smoke bombs in the pack. Grabbing a few, he kept going forward-- and was struck from above, as the Slayer jumped down from the ceiling, where he'd been crawling along!

Mike barely hit the floor when he set off one of the bombs. The Slayer could see well in the dim light, but the smoke was something he couldn't penetrate with his excellent vision, and Mike was able to deliver several vicious blows to his head and face with his 'chuks. He stunned him, but knew that he would recover too quickly for him to try to finish him off, so he kept going.

Now the tunnel branched to the left and right. Taking a chance, he went left. It was sloping upwards, and he hoped that this was a good sign.

Once again the Slayer caught up with him, but Mike was getting better at anticipating the attacks. He felt he'd been at this for hours.

The Slayer sent him crashing into the wall. He rapidly punched Mike's chest, knocking the breath from his body-- Mike could feel his ribs taking damage from the blows, despite the protection of his plastron.

His 'chuk swung upwards, more as a defensive gesture to try to protect his chest, and luck was with him-- it distracted the Slayer enough when it hit his arm that Mike could once again set off another smoke bomb-- and disappear into the confusion, still making his way up the tunnel.

"I need a place to set up an ambush," he kept desperately thinking. "I need a place to set up an ambush."

Abruptly he was in a larger part of the tunnel, a sort of large chamber, with a partially destroyed floor-- and the end of the tunnel blocked. The only ways out were back, or down.

Perfect! A dead end.

"Probably my dead end as well," he sighed, looking behind him. He had little time; the Slayer would be on him in a moment.

Searching the bag he found the electric-shock shuirken. He'd have to be close to use those-- the Slayer was too fast for him to hit.

He'd barely gotten a few stashed on him within easy reach when the Slayer launched himself at Mikey from the entryway.

As he ducked and managed to slip from the grasp of the Slayer, yet another explosion shook the tunnels. It sounded as if someone was getting closer, someone was on the other side of the caved in tunnel. Mike could faintly hear voices.

"Come on, gentlemen-- we must break through! I would prefer my Slayer take the turtle alive, but I may have to settle for whatever he leaves me."

Man, this just gets better and better, he ruefully grinned.

A noise distracted him, and the tunnel he'd entered this chamber through was beginning to be closed off with debris raining down from the ceiling. Both he and the Slayer were being pelted with rock chunks while they fought.

Mikey was taking a beating, and in spite of his skills, he knew he would not last much longer.

The Slayer suddenly had him in a shell-breaking hug, squeezing harder and harder, holding him up off the floor. As he struggled to break the hold, he managed to get one of the shuirken from where he'd secreted it, and wedged it into the exposed metal joint of the Slayer's jaw. The shock was enough distract him so his grip to loosen, and Mikey once again slipped away.

He tried desperately to make it back to the slowly collapsing tunnel, but was tripped up by the Slayer yet again. Again he beat off the attack. Both were bleeding; but Mikey couldn't slowly heal like the Slayer.

Another explosion. Both of them nearly slid into the ever-growing hole in the floor. Now Mike could hear water rushing from below; a pipe must have ruptured, he vaguely thought, trying yet again to make it back into the tunnel.

Once again the Slayer caught Mike from behind, but now he was becoming predictable, and Mike was able to avoid most of the blow to his back. It still sent him down on one knee, causing even more pain to shoot through his injured leg, but he recovered so quickly with a forward roll, flipped around, and made seven clean, powerful strikes to the Slayer's forehead with his 'chuks, driving him to the edge of the collapsed floor.

Before the Slayer could catch himself, Mikey managed to deliver a kick to the chest, sending the creature crashing down to the bottom where all the water was just beginning to rush in.

He had no time to celebrate, no time to escape. Another explosion rocked the tunnel, and caused more of the floor to give way, sending Mikey once again falling amidst debris to another level.

He was momentarily stunned; his mind was working overtime, telling him to hurry up and get up and get the hell out of there before the Slayer could recover...

But as his head cleared, he noticed two things; the icy feel of the water that was filling in the depression, and the desperate noise of the Slayer, trying to free himself from the immense pile of rubble that had him trapped.

Mikey was groggy, but not too groggy to know that if he didn't move quickly, he'd be swimming in no time down some dark channel that ended God knows where. He clamored his shaky way up the rubble until he reached what remained of the upper level floor, a desperate ear tuned to any sound of pursuit.

Gasping, coughing, he gazed down into the tunnel-- and realized that the Slayer was going to drown. He was struggling and struggling, but the water was just about over his head now, and he still couldn't free himself.

Mikey, get out of here! his brain kept yelling, as the head of his enemy vanished under a swirling rush of water.

Move, Mikey, move move move! his common sense kept urging him as he saw a large amount of bubbles suddenly erupt on the surface of the still churning water.

"Damn!" Mikey swore, and he suddenly jumped back in, swam down to where a semiconscious Slayer still was trapped, and freed him, dragging him to the top.

Once their heads broke the surface, the Slayer seemingly alive, Mike released him and they both scrambled and clawed and climbed their way back to the upper level-- Mikey's second trip. His leg burned like fire, and he wasn't sure it would work, but he was able to once again haul himself out of the lower level and back to relative safety.

They both just lay there, gasping and coughing up water. Mike kept a safe distance, weapons ready. He was tired, injured, and unsure how this thing was going to react.

The Slayer continued to stare at him as he regained his breath. He made no attempt to attack-- yet. Mike kept a wary eye on him.

Then he sat up. Mikey tensed for the coming attack.

"Why--- you--- save?"

Stunned silence.

"Why--- you--- save--- m-me?"

Mike couldn't believe it! This thing was actually talking!

Correction, Mikey insisted to himself-- this **person** was actually talking. His words were halting, hesitant, as if unsure of how to do it correctly. The sound was the sound of metal gears grinding, combined with voice of Bishop-- that voice that had haunted Mikey's nightmares for months and months and months.

And yet-- **not** like Bishop's-- like a stranger's.

Mike realized that the Slayer still sat there, staring that strange stare at him, waiting for an answer. He desperately wracked his brain for a reason, a reason that made sense-- to himself as well as the Slayer. But nothing came, not even a quip.

Then:

"Because I had to," he replied simply.

The Slayer continued to stare at Mike, as if trying to process this information into something that made sense to his training; his "programing"; his very existence.

"Why? Why--- save--- me? Why--- not--- kill me?"

Mike looked at the Slayer. He'd been asking himself that question, and was wondering what to say-- and as he sat there, he could feel April's book still in the waterproof bag that Don had given them all.

He could feel that book, and something suddenly clicked in his mind.

"Because I felt sorry for you," he said, remembering his feeling for the monster. "I felt sorry for you, because you were-- well-- **created **to do something evil. It's not your fault that you're doing what you're doing. I guess."

Pure Mikey logic.

The Slayer had a hard time processing this, but he sat there, that same stare focused on Mikey, until he finally did.

"Created? Created--- by--- Bishop?"

"Yeah," Mike said. "You were created. Created by a guy kind of like Victor in the book _Frankenstein_. See, there was this creature-- I mean, this **being**, who was put together with various body parts from dead people, and stuff like that, by this guy named Victor Frankenstein, who thought he could play God by creating Life. Bishop created you-- though you're not made from dead people-- I hope. You're his clone. You're part of him. You also, I guess, are part machine, too-- which is totally beyond my ability to really understand-- but--"

Mikey suddenly stopped, as the Slayer slowly stood up. He, too, rose from the floor, gripping his weapons, and steeling himself for the coming attack, knowing that he'd probably signed his death warrant by rescuing this being. He was in no shape to fight, but he wouldn't let this person kill him easily.

But the Slayer did something unexpected. He began to examine himself; looking at his arms and legs, feeling his face, his body-- and then those eyes resumed that strange stare at Mike.

"You were--- created--- You--- kill." He knew a lot; Bishop had made sure of that. He knew about the Turtles and their master. It had been drilled into him in order to make his mission more successful; and yet now, now he was having-- thoughts. Second thoughts, it seemed.

"Well, yeah," Mike admitted. "We were born regular turtles-- but we were created by accident. The mutation was not done on purpose. And yes, we've killed. But we've only done it when needed. We weren't created to hunt. You were created to hunt others; to hunt aliens and mutants who probably just want to be left alone."

The Slayer still looked at Mike, but now the Turtle was beginning to see something different in those eyes-- doubt? Was this being feeling doubt over his purpose?

"I am--- created--- to hunt," he repeated Mikey's statement. "I am created--- to--- kill?"

"Well, Bishop calls you his 'Slayer'," Mike pointed out. "That means 'killer', you know. It's not like you have a name, you know."

The Slayer still looked at Mike with those eyes, and for the first time, Mike began to notice that they had-- well-- LIFE in them.

Life.

And understanding.

And Mike suddenly felt such pity as he couldn't explain; such pity that even the Monster in the book had not elicited from him. The words of Master Splinter came back to him in that moment: "There are those who would say that the Monster was indeed more 'human' than the man who had so callously created him."

"You can read?" he asked, and the Slayer, after a moment, nodded his head silently.

Mike without thinking pulled the book from the waterproof pouch, tossed it to the Slayer, who caught it without moving his gaze from Mike.

"Read that," Mike said. "It's kind of hard to understand in parts, but it might make sense to you. It's finally made sense to me."

The Slayer looked now at the book, but before anything could be said, the sounds of digging became louder; Bishop was almost through the cave-in behind his precious Slayer. He would be there before Mike could escape. Once again Mike went on guard. The way was open behind him, but he didn't think he'd be able to get very far. His one leg had really taken a beating in the fall and subsequent fighting; he feared that it had been rebroken.

The Slayer, without turning to the noise, looked directly into Mike's eyes.

"Run," he said simply.

Mike stared at him, briefly wondering if he was being set up for a chase.

"Run," the Slayer said again. "You--- save me. I--- save you--- Even."

Mike needed no more urging. But he couldn't resist turning back to the Slayer.

"Choose a name for yourself!" he said inexplicably, and then scrambled out of the narrow opening behind him and ran as fast as his injuries allowed.


	13. Frankenstein Wannabe Part E

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Okay, this is the last part of this Mikey detour. Now I am prepared for the final battle-- well, almost. Thanks everyone. Please let me know if something isn't working so I might fix it.

TMNT and the whole kit-n-kaboodle are the property of Mirage.

Frankenstein Wannabe Part E

The Slayer stood there, staring after Michelangelo. Then he looked at the book.

"You were created to hunt others; to hunt aliens and mutants who probably just want to be left alone."

The words remained with him, as he waited for Bishop and his men to break through. He looked at the book, remembering-- his first battle.

He had fought without question; indeed, without orders. It was like he knew what was expected of him.

Like he had had no choice.

Like he had been created to do.

Created.

Behind the Slayer, Bishop and a few of his men had finally broken through.

"Yes!" Bishop couldn't help being happy; his beloved prototype was safe and sound. "What of the turtle? Quick, men! Search everywhere---"

"Turtle--- gone," the Slayer said, and everyone froze, Bishop especially.

"You-- you spoke!" Bishop was more than amazed; he was downright shocked. It had never occurred to him that his creation could do more than what it had been created to do.

"Yes--- and--- turtle--- gone," he said again, hiding the book.

"Well, no matter! At least I have you back, and there will be plenty of opportunities to hunt those wretched freaks down and destroy them!" Bishop was beaming as if his first born had called him "Dada". "Let's get out of here, gentlemen. We have work to do."

And they followed him out of the tunnel; the Slayer, with one last look in the direction that Michelangelo had gone, followed his creator.

And he kept the book hidden.

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Mike had no idea how long he stumbled blindly up the narrow, dangerously unstable tunnel, one hand always on the wall, both ears tuned to any pursuit behind him. He was feeling feverish, exhausted, thirsty, and in pain-- but the fear of Bishop possibly being right behind him kept him moving, in spite of the remembered voice of the Slayer telling him to run.

Somehow, Mike was sure that he wasn't being followed.

But he took no chances.

Run, Mikey, run run run! he kept thinking. Sooner or later you're gonna run into your own bedroom, and climb up in your own bed, and then Raph is gonna wake you up-- yeah, Raph always wakes you up from these nightmares. Good old Raph! I really need to quit aggravating him. He does so much for me. He wakes me up from nightmares, he kills Bishop for me, he---

He'd no idea how long or how far he'd been running, or how long his mind had been wandering like this, when his legs finally gave out, and he lay on the rough floor, gasping and unable to lift a finger. He hazily remembered stuff happening in his life, all jumbled together as if in a fever dream; his pranks, his battles, his family, his friends, his enemies-- and all through it, he had the vague belief that he was being chased by Raph... at least, he kept hearing Raph yelling at him... no, not yelling **at** him... yelling **for** him... yelling... always yelling...

...Mikey...

..Mikey..

"Mikey!"

Mikey opened his eyes abruptly to find Raph leaning over him, close enough to kiss-- which made Mike smile rather than laugh. For some reason, he couldn't laugh, though he desperately wanted to. He had never wanted to laugh so much in his life, but he couldn't; he guessed he was too tired.

"Hey, Bro," he heard himself whisper. "I knew you would wake me up from my nightmare."

Raph seemed to breathe out a sigh of relief.

"Come on, bro--- let's go home," he replied in that remembered tone, and Mike could have swore he saw his brother flash a grin, just before he fell back asleep...

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"Choose a name for yourself," he heard himself mumble in his dream, and then he felt the familiar, safe touch of his father's hand on his forehead, and he opened his eyes to Splinter, who was looking at him with much approval, as if he'd done something totally unexpected, like perform the perfect kata, or clean his room without being told.

"My son," that safe, comforting voice filled his ears, and his own throat choked up at the joy it brought him. "My son, are you awake? Are you all right?"

"Master Splinter?"

Much confusion for a few brief seconds. Then it all came flooding back-- the tunnels, the Slayer, Bishop, being separated from his brothers-- where were they? Had they escaped?-- and he tried to sit-- only to be forced down by dizziness and nausea.

"Lay still, my son," his father gently admonished, and he placed a cool rag on his forehead. "You have been ill from your injuries, and you need to rest. But your fever is down finally. Lay still, my son, until we can bring you something to drink."

Drink? Man, suddenly he realized just how thirsty he was!

And hungry!

"Can I have some pizza with whatever you're bringing me to drink?" he eagerly, though weakly asked, and he was surprised to hear much laughter in the room. Then he realized that he was in Splinter's bed, and that his bros and friends were present.

"Told ya he was gonna be okay," he heard Raph say nonchalantly, and then his brother was in his vision, sliding a hand under his head to help him rise up enough to drink from the cup that he held with his other hand. "Here, drink some water."

Mike made a face at the taste.

"Dude!" he finally managed. "What was in that water?"

"Medicine," Raph calmly replied, settling him back down. "And there's more where that came from, especially if ya start ta cause a fuss. Chucklehead, what made you run off like that? Me and Don and Leo had a hard time findin' ya."

"I-- I don't know," he said finally. "I don't remember."

"My son," Splinter said, and Mike turned to face Splinter. "My son, are you able to tell us anything of what happened?"

"Yeah," he managed, looking at the eyes that held such life and such love. "I fought with the Slayer. And I found out he was-- human."

Mikey ignored the gasps around him, the startled questions, the animated discussions. He kept his eyes on his father's, and saw in them understanding.

"My son, I am proud of you," Splinter whispered, stroking his forehead.

"Are you proud enough of me to let me have some pizza? I'm starving."

Splinter smiled and shook his head.

"I want you to rest now. You may have your pizza later, but rest now."

And in spite of the fact that he was "starving", Mike obeyed this loving command willingly.

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In the secret lab of Bishop, the Slayer was being locked into his solitary room for the night after an intensive day of training. He had easily defeated the six "super soldiers" that Bishop had managed to develop-- none of them were a challenge, none of them were a threat--

None of them were like him.

Now Bishop was consumed it seemed with creating more of these "improved men"-- for men they were. No more clones; he was manipulating developed DNA with the mutated strains he still preserved from the Rat, but while superior to anything (other than himself, it seemed), none of them matched the sheer strength and proven powers of his prototype; his Slayer.

Since the encounter with the Turtle, the Slayer had grown in his understanding of things around him. His intelligence showed itself in his ability to quickly grasp and work to his advantage the Internet (when no one was around), as well as pick up information from the idle chatter of the various subordinates of Bishop's.

In fact, he had developed **such** an understanding that he quickly realized that if he were to survive, he would need to keep his newfound knowledge hidden from his "creator"-- for now.

He stood in the room, as he always did, perfectly still, waiting a half hour after the last sound had died from the outside world. Then he sat on the bed and, in spite of the darkness of the room, pulled the book he'd hidden under his mattress from its place, and read again this tale of horror and sadness.

"Choose a name for yourself!" he remembered the words of the Turtle.

He'd heard many names recently-- he'd heard many names before, but had never paid attention until the words of the Turtle. He thought of the names in the book that the Turtle had given him, but all of those names held nothing but heartache and sadness.

He thought once again of the names he'd heard from the mouth of his "creator", Bishop. None of them suited.

And yet--- and yet---

One name in the book seemed to appeal to him-- one name, though whether it was appropriate or not-- seemed to speak to him. It was not the name the Turtle would probably have chosen, for it represented what was, to the Slayer, the truly evil one of the story-- the character whom the Turtle had compared Bishop to.

Only one name seemed to touch something in his soul-- if, indeed, it could be said he had a soul, considering what he was.

Only one name: Victor.

Victor.

He would be Victor. He would choose this name-- his own name.

And in time, he would choose his own life.

Victor.


	14. On Your Marks

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And now I begin my final part of this adventure! Bwa-hahaha! I am so grateful to people like Llama, Splinter, and Doppleganger, for all your encouragement and kind words, even when I go back and see all the horrendeous mistakes that I thought I'd corrected. Thank-you one and all!

TMNT and the rest of everyone in the next bunch of chapters are the property of Mirage and whomever they do business with. The plot is mine. The typos are mine. The evil planning is mine.

On Your Mark...

Don was sleeping in his lab, head on his desk, while his latest chemical concoction bubbled dangerously on the little burner. The acrid smell of burning chemicals permeated the area, drawing Splinter quickly to the room, whereupon he quickly removed the experiment from the burner, turning it off in the process. He bit back a severe rebuke, seeing that Donatello was too far gone in sleep to appreciate the sting of it.

Instead, he gently shook his son, rousing him finally with a few "Donatello, my son" thrown in for good measure.

"Uuuhh... OH!" Don, slowly waking, suddenly recalled what he'd been doing, and made a quick attempt to reach his experiment-- and saw that his father had already dealt with it.

"My son, go to bed," Splinter simply said.

"But Sensei! I'm not tired! I was just resting my eyes! I won't do it again! I'm close to an important discovery! There was nothing dangerous in the beaker! I swear April's just a friend, nothing more! I promise we won't elope! I need to see the results---"

He abruptly stopped, registering the look of shock on his father's face. He went back over in his mind what he'd been saying-- and dreaming-- and without another word, put away his notes and such and went to bed.

His confused father decided to simply return to his own room and forget what he'd heard from his sleep-deprived son.

Ever since they had returned with an injured Michelangelo, Donatello had been practically living in his lab, coming out reluctantly to eat, use the restroom, train, and go visit with Leatherhead, Professor Honeycutt, and April. Splinter knew that it had everything to do with the blood of Bishop; blood obtained by his son Raphael's quick throw of his sai.

Much time had passed. Michelangelo was not only recovered from his most recent injuries, but he had finally regained full strength. Splinter did notice, however, that he still on occasion had some vague pain and trouble with the leg, especially during weather changes. He hoped his son was not going to be plagued with the early onset of arthritis.

Leonardo had felt the sting of failure and guilt for several days after their almost capture. He had known there was the risk, but he still blamed himself for allowing his brother to be injured.

"You did what you had to do, my son," Splinter had told him. "We needed to know, and you did what you had to do. Michelangelo is not a child. He is as fully-trained as the rest of you. And he escaped."

"Yes, but---"

"Learn from your mistakes, but do not dwell on them," he had said, and that was the end of that.

He and Raph, however, still planned late into the night, and trained almost continuously.

In his room, setting up his area for a late-night meditation, he heard the return of two of his sons from a late-night visit to April's.

"Woo-hoo!" he heard Raphael crow in triumph as he and Michelangelo entered the Lair. "Leo! Guess what? My aim is gettin' better!"

Leonardo, who had been reading on the couch, grinned at his brothers as they joined him, heedless of their father's eavesdropping.

"Leo you should have seen it!" Mikey enthused, grabbing the bowl of popcorn Leo had been snacking on while reading. "We're coming back home, right, and who is out causing trouble but Hun and a bunch of his gang!"

"It was sweet!" Raph laughed. "They were hasslin' some homeless-- I still don't get it, that is so small-time for Hun-- anyways, Mikey and me decide we could use the exercise."

"We dropped in on them, and would you believe it, a bunch of the Purple Dragons actually hauled ass out of there!" Mikey laughed between mouthfuls of popcorn. It was disgusting to watch the half-chewed pieces spray out as he tried to eat, talk, and laugh at the same time.

"Eww, Mikey!" Leo groaned, protecting himself and his book from the food assault. "Be careful! I already took my shower tonight." Then he turned to Raph. "What happened? What's it got to do with your aim?"

"Oh, God!" Mikey started choking with laughter and too much popcorn. "You're gonna love this part!"

"Mikey!" Raph and Leo chorused, as more partially chewed popcorn flew at them.

"Anyways, Hun is pissed 'cause a bunch of his Dragons have taken off," Raph says. "He pulls a gun to deal with us-- an actual gun! I figure he's through with his swords skills, or else still bummed that all that hard work for the Shredder turned out to be for a squishy little alien. Anyway-- before I could even **think** about what I was gonna do, I threw a sai at him-- and I nailed him good!"

Leo looked excited.

"Did you kill him?" he eagerly asked, making sure his voice was low enough so Sensei didn't hear. But Raph shook his head.

"Nope-- he's still alive. **But** let's just say that, if he wasn't circumcised **before**, he is **now**." And he and Mike both were off in an explosion of laughter-- and Leo, picturing the scene in his mind, joined them.

In his room, Splinter thought about what he had overheard. He was sure that there was more to this than the apparent groin injury to an old enemy. He was sure that Leonardo and Raphael were planning something, something to do with Bishop.

The question was: should he interfere? Or should he allow them to move forward on their own?

After all, they were no longer children. They were highly skilled, they were highly experienced. They had come such a long way since the first battle with the outside world, when the mechanical rat killers of Baxter Stockman had forced them from their home of many years, forced his sons for the first time to the surface for their first real battles.

He recalled with pride the looks on their faces and the tones of their voices as, once they had settled into their new home that Splinter had found by accident (or fate), they related to him their encounter with the gang known as the Purple Dragons, not to mention the (to them, at the time) mysterious ninja who had attacked them after they had easily beaten the gang.

Splinter sighed. They had come so far-- from battling little robots designed by some crazed scientist to battling an invading alien army; from the Shredder, his most mortal of enemies, to Bishop-- who now was doing all he could to replace the Shredder in their lives as the major threat.

He decided that he would trust his sons. He would not bring it up.

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Stockman was a disappointment to Bishop.

Oh, he was brilliantly gifted. But he was also quite mad. Bishop needed stability in his assistants, and while he could tolerate the megalomania that plagued this person, he was quickly growing tired of his insane jealousy of anyone who could do something he couldn't.

Stockman had be of immense help to him, providing him with a lot of the information Oroku Saki had gathered and developed over the centuries-- the ability to mutate people into monsters, for example (**A/N**: see "Notes from the Underground"); the perfection of his own "fail safe" for his super soldiers-- he still remembered with a pang of regret for his own stupidity how he'd accidently terminated three of his latest creations by a careless command. The devices implanted in their brains had worked well on two of them-- instant death. But the third had lingered in an irreversible coma. No matter. Bishop had learned much from all three as their body parts were carefully removed and preserved for future use.

Pity about the one who had lived long enough to die during the salvage procedure. Stockman seemed to think that he suffered no pain, but Bishop was sure those screams had not been pure reflex.

Still, no matter. His work was gaining in it's successes through such mistaken failures.

Look at his prototype! He was constantly amazed at the growth in his Slayer, both physically and mentally. His creation had acquired full speech, and appeared to be very intelligent. This bode well for his plans to eventually mainstream the ones to follow into Society.

Oh, the Slayer would never manage to be mainstreamed, he knew this. Eventually he'd have to be disposed of, to make way for the future. But Bishop still couldn't help but feel pride in what his prototype had accomplished so far. This was justification for his plans. With his studies of the Slayer, he would one day be able to restart his cloning program, and finally achieve his goal-- the goal that would have been much closer to fruition if not for those damn Turtle freaks!

He looked at his prototype, standing passively in the lab while Bishop was supervising the latest treatments for the three replacement "volunteers" of super soldiers, and dreamed of the future.

Once he knew of the Slayer's ability to read and assimilate knowledge, he had begun a new, even more rigorous round of indoctrination, imparting to his Slayer every bit of knowledge regarding the Turtles, their Rat Master, the Utroms, and anything else involving their mutation. He'd already "educated" him to the story of the Turtles, before he could speak-- it had helped him to focus on the task at hand; too bad the one he'd been tracking had escaped, but no matter. His Slayer had been saved yet again, and Bishop could wait.

Thanks to what Stockman knew, it was now being provided with much more useful knowledge, and it would all serve one purpose: to enable the Slayer to capture all five of the mutants alive and return them to him, Bishop!

"And then," he muttered to himself, "I will be able to finally complete what I'd started so long ago, before that rat showed up and prevented me from doing what I'd planned. And I'm going to enjoy it very much."

The Slayer stood, quietly and still, observing everything without seeming to.

In his mind, he was Victor. He was not some nameless killing machine. He was a living being named Victor; just as much a living being as those three unfortunate "super soldiers" that Bishop had accidently terminated-- well, two terminated. One was subjected to the cruelest of deaths imaginable-- and Victor had discovered through his growth that he had a very good imagination.

He imagined himself moving freely through the world, meeting others, studying cultures, gaining more knowledge. The more he used the Internet (still in secret; Bishop knew of his mental capacities, but Victor also knew what Bishop would do if he suspected just **how** vast his mental capacities were) the more he knew that he wanted this thing called Life. He had to find a way to escape; to escape and live.

He knew that it would not be easy. But he also knew that it would not be like in the book _Frankenstein_. He knew that the world, though not perfect, would not be as intolerant of his existence or looks as it had been for the monster.

And there were alien worlds to explore as well, places where his looks, his existence, would not be of any shock or wonderment.

He must find a way to defeat the fail safe. He was intelligent. He knew that Bishop, no matter how much he touted his "creation" to others, was already planning the newer, improved models.

All Bishop needed was that mutated Rat.

And Bishop was counting on him to capture him


	15. Get Set

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Thank-you, all three of you, who are still sticking this out with me. This chapter is rather long-- sorry! But my heat-induced writer's block suddenly disappeared this morning! I hope you enjoy it. I have been hearing about some of what is going to happen in the new season, but I am steadfastly attempting to stay away from those plot lines!

TMNT and the rest are owned, operated, managed, copywrited, controlled, tattooed, created, and locked in a storage vault surrounded by armed guards with vicious pitbulls by Mirage. Believe me, I **know** about the armed guards and the vicious pitbulls!

Get Set

The dream had been plaguing him for the past few weeks.

At first, Splinter was wont to put it down to the past year's activities; the sudden intrusion of the Triceratons into his home world, the evil intent of this special Agent Bishop, the culminating battle and subsequent defeat of his life's enemy the Shredder-- the emotional growth of his sons as they faced and conquered these dangers and challenges.

Such nightmares were to be expected.

But over the past few weeks one in particular had been growing, becoming more prevalent, and though it varied here and there in places, the outcome was always the same.

He is walking through the sewers, heading home. He has no idea where he is coming from, just that he is walking home, when six large humans dressed in red surround him. They are armed like the Ninja of old-- the weapons look like something from a museum, but he can tell that they are not true Ninja.

They are skilled, and powerful, and deadly-- but he defeats them with his walking stick and manages to escape.

He makes his way home safely-- only to find that they have followed him! He was sure he has killed them, but no! They are alive and have followed him to his home, to his family!

There is confused battle-- and then Splinter is standing in the middle of the living area. The Lair is destroyed from the fighting; blood is everywhere, and he is standing there tired, wounded, and alive. But his sons---

His sons are lying at his feet, broken and bloodied, where they have fallen defending their father. Michelangelo gasps once, blood bubbling from his lips, then sighs and is no more. Donatello weakly touches his father's foot, as if patting him good-bye, and then is still. Raphael and Leonardo, linked somehow together by the way they have fallen, both stare at him with rapidly fading eyes-- he can see the life leaving those eyes. He hears Leonardo try to apologize for failing, but the death rattle of his brother covers the sound of his words, then he, too, is gone.

He has brought this evil into his own home, he thinks, as the six Ninja in red close in on him. His will to fight is broken like the shells of his sons. He waits for them to finish him off so he might join his children in Death.

Then he is lying on a table in Bishop's laboratory.

"I always finish what I set out to do," he says to Splinter, inserting yet another tube into him to drain his life's spirit from him and into the six Red Ninja. "I always finish what I set out to do."

"Master Splinter!" Donatello's voice cut into his nightmare sharply, and he opened his eyes. It was still night, he was sure of that. His son was kneeling by his bed, concern clearly etched on his face in the faint light coming from the open door of his room. "Master Splinter, are you all right?"

Splinter, still feeling the rapid beating of his heart, still feeling the grief tears on his face from the nightmare, sat up, steadying himself, composing himself.

"Yes, my son," he finally managed, absently wiping his eyes with his hand. "Yes, thank-you. I was having a nightmare I believe."

"I'll say you were," Don, visibly relieved, sat back on the floor. "I was passing by on my way to my room when I heard you crying out to us. Are you sure you're all right?" And he resisted placing a hand on his father's forehead; he knew that Splinter would not have appreciated the gesture.

Splinter sighed.

"I am all right now, Donatello," he assured him. "It was a powerful nightmare, the most powerful nightmare a parent could have. But it is passing now. Soon I will be able to return to sleep without fear of dreaming it again."

Donatello looked at Splinter dubiously.

"You know, Sensei-- Mikey and I have shared our nightmares with you over the past year," he pointed out. "Don't you think maybe you should just once share yours with us? Or at least me?"

Splinter smiled at this son, and reached out and took his hand and patted it.

"Perhaps if I have it one more time," he smiled. "Let us just say that it is every parent's nightmare-- that something terrible has happened to his children. Is that not horrible enough?"

Don knew not to push the matter. Instead, he offered to make his father some of his favorite soothing tea.

"That would be most welcome, and then you really should go to bed, my son," Splinter gratefully replied. "Training comes early, and I am not going to excuse you all simply because I had a nightmare."

While Don busied himself with the tea, Splinter sat in his bed, trying to find the message of the dream.

"The message is plain," he muttered to himself. "I believe that the message is very plain. Now-- how to circumvent that message..."

The morning training took place without a word from Splinter or Donatello about the previous night. The katas were perfect, the sparring was most satisfactory (Michelangelo actually won his bout against Leonardo, something that he rarely did), and meditation came and went without the usual problems he had with at least two of his sons.

Yet the dream of the night before was fresh in his mind. No matter who he was looking at, he would see them as they were in his dream.

This is not acceptable, he thought to himself. I cannot allow this thought to linger-- or to take place. I must find a way to banish this vision-- or circumvent it.

After breakfast, Splinter came to a decision.

"My sons, I will be going to visit a friend, so you may have the rest of this day to yourselves," he announced, and tried not to let the celebrations this generated disturb him (even though he would have been happier if Leonardo would actually have joined his brothers in this apparently good news. His oldest sometimes didn't understand the meaning of "relaxation"). "I will be home in time for dinner. I trust that there will be no problems."

"May we ask where you are going?" Leonardo responded.

"I have a need to consult with the Daimyo," he replied, after hesitation. After all, that dream was bothering him, and perhaps it would be wiser to inform his sons of his movements. He wondered whether to admonish them to stay safely in the lair, but then recalled his determination to remember that they were no longer children. "I would prefer that you not draw attention to yourselves, but I will trust you to be safe while I am gone. I will be home for dinner. I believe it is your turn to cook, Raphael. I hope that I may look forward to your specialty."

Raph was a better cook than Don, and definitely a better cook than Leo, but he was not as varied or as skilled as Mike. He made several things that were eatable, and one that was really excellent: spaghetti with a toasted cheese topping. Splinter, not a pasta fan in particular, nevertheless enjoyed when Raphael made this dish-- mainly because if he pointed this out, then dinner was sure to be good instead of just eatable. He knew that Raphael would make it if he mentioned it with flattery. Raph hated to be told what to cook.

Raph, of course, knew this old trick, and it secretly tickled him to comply and play along. If any of his brothers had said (as Mikey had on numerous occasions), "Hey, Raph-- for God's sake make that spaghetti dish tonight, it's the only thing that actually tastes good," they would end up eating one of his lesser appetizing concoctions.

He bid his sons farewell, and paused for some reason at the door before leaving. They were going about their chores, anticipating the free time they had unexpectedly earned. This is the happy picture he wanted in his mind; not the horror of the nightmare that had been plaguing him for the past few weeks.

He left the Lair.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The "super soldiers" were standing at ease, weapons practice over for the morning. Bishop surveyed them without comment. They had done well, as could be attested to the number of "volunteers" who were being carted off to the infirmary for various treatments. The six had done extremely well against some of the best fighters in Bishop's strangely shrinking "army".

He had lost so many to departmental transfers as it was following the scandals of the past year, but some more were leaving mysteriously on their own. He knew they hadn't talked, as nothing had come back to bite him in the ass, but he also knew that they were hiding, and with good cause; if he located them, they were dead men. Bishop had too many secrets to hide, and those who shared those secrets would be easy to find-- it was simple to track down sources.

He'd already proven that to the rest of his men when he'd been suddenly called on the carpet for reported genetic engineering. The source of that rumor, a weak-willed surgeon who had balked at salvaging organs from a living donor (the unfortunate super soldier whose termination command had sadly failed-- but he was going to die anyway, so where was the problem?), was the example to the rest when he died in a mysterious accident.

These six were the best he had, next to his prototype. He looked again at his Slayer, standing near the wall, impassively watching as usual the training of these next wave soldiers. Bishop wanted to test them against his prototype, but he couldn't risk the almost certain injury they would receive. The Slayer was the best, in spite of his appearance, and Bishop was discovering new abilities in his creation on an almost daily basis.

Yes, the Slayer was his best and brightest. Too bad he couldn't mainstream him, but his unfortunate appearance would be hard to pass off.

With a regretful sigh, he dismissed the thought of a final bout from his mind, along with the knowledge that someday the Slayer would have to be "retired", to make way for the newer, better models, and turned once again to his "super soldiers".

"Men, the time has come for your first assignment," he said, resisting the urge to rub his hands together in anticipation. "I will brief you in two hours. Until then, hit the showers, and pick up the new uniforms. Also, report to the armory. I have something special for each of you."

The men bowed and left the training area. Bishop looked at his Slayer, who returned the gaze as he always did-- impassively.

"You are wondering why I'm not sending you?"

"It is not my place to wonder at your decisions," the Slayer carefully responded.

Bishop smiled at this answer.

"I am saving you for a special assignment," he said, as they left the training area. "You are going to be the one to finish those freak turtles for me. With any luck, you will also take care of that crocodile that escaped with them. But the Turtles will be your top priority. I want them dead and their bodies lying before me."

The Slayer did not respond, and Bishop didn't expect him to.

Inside himself, Victor was planning. He had to find a way to escape this existence; to escape to the world he was constantly dreaming of.

Oh, yes-- he had started dreaming. It had startled him as nothing else had done. He had started dreaming of strange things-- fighting the "Super Soldiers" and defeating them; meeting people from other countries (Japan for some reason. After all, that was where the representatives from the Utrom home world were based. He'd developed a desire to meet with these beings, to discuss his possibly going to their world instead of staying in this one); discussing literature with the turtle who had given him his life-- and his book.

He had _Frankenstein_ memorized. He had read and reread the book until he could quote entire chapters from the heart. And there always seemed to be something new that he hadn't seen before in the tale.

So, as the Slayer listened quietly to the plans of Bishop regarding the Turtles, Victor was busy making plans of his own-- plans that, if successful, would defeat the very person who had created him while at the same time freeing himself from this life he was created for, exchanging it for a life that he dreamed of.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What do you think, my old friend?" Splinter respectfully asked the Daimyo, as they sipped tea in the throne room. The Daimyo, his mask of office set aside, carefully considered all that Splinter had laid out before him.

"Well, my old friend," he said. "If it were me, and I were having such dreams, I would treat them as a vision. I would gather my sons and come here where it is safe. You and your sons would be most welcome to live here, and be forever free from this madman you describe."

"That would hardly be fair to my sons, Daimyo," Splinter sighed. "Especially if these are just the nightmares of an overprotective father, and not a vision of some future danger. I admit, I would so as you suggest in a heartbeat, were they younger. But they are no longer children. And I do not relish the idea of running from this enemy, though at the moment I am uncertain how we might defeat him. Such evil men are hard to rid the world of."

"But they can be defeated," the Daimyo said.

"Yes, they can," Splinter agreed. "If it is so decreed by Fate, then Bishop and his plans for this-- this-- abomination of creating life will be defeated. I just do not wish my sons to pay the high price that may be required of such action."

"Yet you took on the Shredder, and the outcome could have been the same," the Daimyo pointed out.

"Somehow, that seemed different," Splinter slowly admitted, though why it seemed different puzzled him. "Perhaps I am just overreacting to this disturbing nightmare."

"I understand," the Daimyo said, as his little son came running into the room, heedless of the shouts from his attendant.

"Father! Father! Look what I have learned today!" he shouted, and then abruptly skidded to a halt, realizing that his father had company. He immediately bowed low to this visitor. "Greetings, Master Splinter! Forgive me for rudely interrupting your conversation!"

Splinter, still amazed at the circumstances that had revived this being in the form of his younger self, had already risen and bowed respectfully in return to the Daimyo's son.

"It is very good to see you again, young lord," Splinter replied, and then he resumed his seat.

"Father! Look what I have learned!" he excitedly continued, and proceeded to perform a difficult kata with great enthusiasm if not great skill to the amusement of his father and his father's guest. "What do you think? Be honest!"

The Daimyo looked at Splinter, who smiled at the son.

"You show great improvement, young lord. But if I might suggest that you slow the turn, make it more deliberate--" and he stood up and demonstrated what he was speaking of.

The Daimyo's son studied him carefully, and then did his best to copy the move. It looked much better this time.

"Thank you, Splinter Sensei!" he bowed again. "I will practice it just like that!" Then, with a bow to his father, followed by an impulsive hug, he ran out of the room as fast as he had entered it, his attendant chasing after him.

"Thank you, my old friend," the Daimyo bowed to Splinter. "I was afraid that you might praise him when he needed guidance. I have a hard time convincing his instructor to push him to perfection, to stop accepting anything less. That is what happened last time, and I myself helped that problem to exist." And his face darkened in the memory of how his son had used to be, spoiled, heartless, undisciplined.

Then he shook off the past, and invited Splinter to spend the evening as his guest.

"I must decline," he said, bowing in acknowledgment of the offer. "I told my sons I would be home for dinner, so I must be going. Thank you again for your wise council."

"I would feel better if you would bring your sons here to stay," the Daimyo said, rising with his guest to personally escort him to the portal. "I honor your decision, but remember, my friend, that you and your family are most welcome to come here."

"I will remember, my honored friend."

They made arrangements for Splinter to come back the next week, and to bring his sons for a special occasion-- the Daimyo was giving a celebration in honor of his son's birth ("Rebirth" the Daimyo had called it), and he wanted his honored friend and his family to attend.

"We would be most honored, noble Daimyo," Splinter accepted, and with farewell bows, Splinter entered the portal back to his own world.

He was walking home when he found himself surrounded by six large humans dressed all in red.

He looked at these Ninja who were not true Ninja. He saw their antique weapons, their soulless eyes, their determination. He saw his dream come true.

No-- this would not happen the way he had dreamed.

This would not end with the death of his sons. Not if he could prevent it.

He would not let these men kill his sons.

He lay down his walking stick and spoke to the men.

"I will not fight you," he said. "I will come with you without resistance."


	16. GO!

__

Thanks again to all of you! Terran/Splinter-- you are a goddess! Doppleganger33, I swear, I am uninvolved and unaware of the coming season except for one tiny piece. LLama, I will do my best, and so will the guys. Thanks, Mew. Pi90katana-- yeah, I kind of got creatively busy. Sorry.

TMNT are not mine-- they are a MIRAGE-- LOL-- yeah, it's been done before, so sue me.

GO!

Splinter stood before an extremely surprised Bishop. He was tied firmly, for even though he had told these Ninja "super soldiers" of Bishop's that he would go with them, they took no chances.

"He didn't resist?" Bishop repeated for a third time, the disbelief still apparent in his tone. The leader nodded once again.

"He said that he would not fight us, Sir."

Bishop stared at Splinter with a mixture of distrust, confusion and incredulity.

Then, as Splinter calmly returned Bishop's uncertain stare with his own confident, peaceful gaze, his emotions turned to utter contempt and hatred. Before the rat could react, Bishop hit him once, stunning him.

"Take him to the lab and prepare him," he ordered, as the lead "soldier" supported the semiconscious rat. Then he turned to his Slayer. "This is an unbelievable turn of events. Though your mission is to be the death of the Turtles, I had hoped that my soldiers would have been able to follow him to where they live, challenging them and perhaps make your job easier. No matter. Soon they will be out looking for their-- 'father'--" he said this word with a hateful sneer-- "-- and they will be easier for you to locate. You will leave tomorrow. We'll let them reflect overnight on the disappearance of the rat. Time will make them more careless."

Without another word, he left to start his work in the lab.

The Slayer followed without a word; Victor, however, was making his own plans for tomorrow.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

At around six o'clock, Raph was just turning off the stove. The cheese had melted over the top of the spaghetti, and now he was carefully monitoring the best part-- the crisping of it. He hated it to be burned, but he did like it a bit toasted. The secret was in knowing the exact moment to pull it from the oven and put it on the table.

The places were set, the salad and bread and drinks already out. The guys were patiently waiting for dinner and their father.

Six-fifteen, Raph was putting the meal back in the still-warm oven, trying to preserve it. No one was worried; sometimes Splinter might be a bit late, though that wasn't often.

Six-thirty everyone was beginning to fidget, trying not to become too concerned; they contemplated eating, considering that the meal was becoming a candidate for the microwave.

Six-forty-five, they put the food away and got their weapons.

"Raph, you and Don take the upper levels, Mikey and I will take the lower. We know the direction to where Sensei opens the portal, but this way we won't miss him."

Without another word the four brothers set out in the general known direction their father would take.

Splinter, they knew from their entire lives, was never late more than a few minutes. The knew something had to be wrong, though they desperately hoped that perhaps the Daimyo had pressed him to stay longer.

"We'll look foolish if that's all it is," Mike pointed out as they discussed this scenario.

"I'd rather look foolish than not look at all," Leo responded, and Mike was in agreement; but he'd felt the need to say something at that point. He needed to hear Leo's voice for some reason.

Upper level-- Don was fiddling with his tracker. He had once again placed tracking devises in Splinter's walking stick and robe, not to mention his shell-cell. Once again, Splinter had removed them-- or at least one of them. And, as Don knew (he had checked before they'd left the Lair) Splinter had left his shell-cell at home, feeling uncomfortable using it. He was convinced that it had a grudge against him, and would rarely work properly ("I must have offended its spirit in a previous life, it works hard to thwart my every attempt to use it," he'd said in controlled frustration one day).

"Well, the signal is coming from the direction we're all traveling in," Don told Raph, who relayed this to Leo via his own shell-cell. "But it isn't moving. That could mean he's injured or not really there."

"I hope he's injured," Don could hear Mikey faintly through Raph's phone, and hoped the same thing.

It was a long way to the signal. The only thing it couldn't tell them was what level it was on. Raph and Don, using the tunnels closer to the subways, had to be extra-careful, as there were parts where they had to pass through public areas.

Therefore it was no surprise when the call came through that Leo and Mike had reached the signal first.

Don didn't need to hear Leo's voice to know that bad news had been relayed to Raph; he could tell just by the look of frustrated anger and grief on his brother's face that the guys had only found the source of the signal and not their father.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Though it was late, Bishop was eager to begin. He supervised the preparations, participated in the insertions of various catheters, tubes, and I.V. drip (to keep him alive; Splinter was pretty sure they would not be feeding him, and he wasn't disappointed). Vials of blood were drawn, long needles drew off samples of bone marrow, and tissue samples were taken from his tail. Through it all, Splinter uttered not a sound, and refused to even register pain.

"I told you I'd finish what I'd started out to do," Bishop said, as the assistants and he left the lab. The lights were shut off, and Splinter was left strapped to the cold table, as the I.V.. drip slowly entered his system, its sole intent to nourish him.

Splinter recalled similar words from his dream; but at least his sons were alive. He knew they would search for him, but he prayed that they would stay safely away from Bishop and his men.

He was sure there was some sort of drug in the I.V. to keep him from escaping. He felt great pain, but at the same time, he was noticing a lethargy creeping over him that was not natural.

It was dark and cold in this lab. He wanted to escape-- the table was hard and his body shape was not suited to this type of reclining. He wanted to turn over on his side, curl up, and sleep.

But in spite of the lethargy, he found sleep far from him. His thoughts turned to his sons, and he found himself meditating without thinking about it on his sons.

He recalled Donatello's first invention:

__

"It's a remote control toaster!" he enthusiastically explained to his father. "See, this remote control works the toaster! You can be sitting at the table, and press the button, and the toaster will automatically make the toast! You won't have to get up to use it!"

"Hey, brainac!" Raphael had asked in that teasing tone. "Does the remote control put the bread in the toaster for you?"

As the others laughed, Donatello had looked sorrowfully at his father. But Splinter had smiled at him, and put an arm around him.

"I am so proud of you, my son," he had simply said, and the smile was just as bright in his memory as it was that day.

There were sounds around him, but he didn't focus on them; strange breathing sounds, odd movements, soft scuffing noises-- but he ignored them for the most part. Background noise to his memories and situation.

__

"Michelangelo!" he remembered raising his voice in shock when he'd found this seven year old son trying to practice "the way of balance" on an old pipe close to the edge of one of the many swift-moving sewer currents. It had rained for days, and finally stopped. The water level had dropped, but it was still dangerous, and Michelangelo had been disappointed that he was not as good as the others in crossing the beam in the dojo. He had tried practicing in there, but his brothers were a tiresome audience.

So he'd been sneaking out here to practice without his brothers' prying eyes or teasing comments.

Just as he had spoken, the rusty pipe had started to give way-- and Michelangelo did the most beautiful back flip dismount he'd seen, landing safely away from the edge.

He knew he wasn't supposed to be out there, and was ready for his punishment, but Splinter just couldn't bring himself this one time to do so.

"What? He gets ta teach **us** how ta dismount?" he could still hear the disbelief in Raphael's voice at his decision to have this "youngest" brother demonstrate this skill...

Splinter had no way of knowing how long he'd been like this. All sense of time had left him, left him along with his energy.

The only thing left to him were thoughts of his sons and his determination to survive-- survive until he could find his will to escape.

He was determined to survive...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Time had no meaning today. Bishop and his assistants had reappeared, and the real work had begun. Pain was all he was aware of, in spite of whatever they were giving him to keep him from fighting, pain was all he could think of-- pain.

Tubes were inserted, and he wondered if this were his dream...

More samples... more blood... more samples...

The hum of machines filled his ears, but the pain was more intense than any noise.

"Can we perhaps get a few tissue samples from the organs?" he heard one of the assistants ask, and his ears tried to close themselves to the suggestion, to block out the sound of what that might entail, to protect his mind from the knowledge that they were going to dissect him right then and there...

"Later. There will be plenty of time later. For now we will make do with this," Bishop replied.

More pain... more pain... thoughts of his sons found their way through the pain...

__

"It hurts!" ten year old Leonardo cried uncharacteristically, as Splinter managed to extract the last of several large pieces of glass from his foot. He and his brothers had been exploring where they shouldn't, and now Leonardo was paying the price.

Usually he was the one to tough it out through injuries of this nature, but the amount this time had not only scared them all, it had given Splinter a fright as well. He managed to get the glass out, and cleaned it as best as he could.

Now came the hardest part-- the stitches.

"Stitches?" all four had shouted, and the others' faces mirrored the look of horror on his eldest's.

"Yes, stitches," he had said as calmly as possible. "Donatello, you must help me with the threads and needle. Keep them clean and ready to hand to me. Raphael, you will help by holding onto your brother."

"And what about me, Sensei?" Michelangelo had asked in a quavering voice, torn between wanting to help and wanting to run and hide under his bed.

"You, my son, must keep your brother distracted. This will hurt worse than the glass I am afraid. But it must be done."

So the brothers had their first lesson in dangerous wounds-- more importantly, in family support. Raphael was a strong presence, and he kept Leonardo from jerking out of his seat several times-- though Splinter remembered that he'd kept his eyes closed the entire time.

Donatello, once his initial revulsion was overcome with his natural curiosity, began to study with great interest the work of his Sensei, and even asked if he might attempt a few stitches himself-- causing Raphael to have a **very** hard time keeping Leonardo in his seat!

And Michelangelo had told jokes and annoyed Leonardo to the point that the pain seemed forgotten in a jumble of laughing one minute and groaning the next, depending upon the jokes.

"All finished, my sons," he had finally announced, and the four of them marveled that it was over so quickly.

But to Splinter, it had been the longest twenty minutes of his life.

"Time to call it a day, gentlemen," came the hated voice through the pain.

Splinter opened his eyes to see the Slayer watching him. Bishop was finishing up his ghoulish activity for the day, and the last of the implements he had been using on Splinter were cleaned and put away.

He turned to the Slayer, holding out the rat's blood-stained robe to him.

"Use this as your bait," Bishop said. "Remember, I want them dead before me."

Then he left the room without a glance back at his suffering victim. To Bishop, he was nothing except his valuable donor. He would make sure he lived as long as possible, but that was all.

The rat exchanged looks with the Slayer. He still gazed at Splinter impassively-- yet Splinter seemed to think that there was some emotion in those eyes. He was probably imagining it, he thought. He remembered that Michelangelo had said that he had discovered that the Slayer was human, but Splinter knew better than to count on that. Gratitude is short-lived in some.

He closed his own and bit back the painful cries he so desperately wanted to emit. His body hurt so! His spirit was strong, but the pain in his body was trying to overpower him. Despair was trying to work a foothold into his resolve.

"What is the name of the one who gave me the book?"

Splinter's eyes flew open in surprise. He had thought the Slayer had left on his mission to kill his sons.

He looked at this being, who was still impassively staring at him.

He wanted to know the name of his son-- for what reason? To lure him to his death?

"I only have a few minutes before I must leave," the Slayer said, his voice lowered against the chance of being over heard. "I have only twenty-four hours to find the Turtles and kill them. I swear to you that I will not do this thing. But please tell me the name of the one who gave me the book."

Splinter stared hard into this beings eyes-- and saw what his son had seen. There was something alive in his gaze; there was something "human" in this being-- more human than in Bishop.

Splinter decided to trust him.

"Michelangelo," he replied.

"Do you have a message I may give them?"

Again, he decided to trust this being-- this person.

"Tell them I love them and to stay away from here."

The Slayer started to leave.

"Wait!" Splinter called as loudly as he dared, suddenly desperate with a memory. "Wait! My son-- my son mentioned to me that-- please, have you chosen a name?"

"Victor. I am Victor. I will not hurt your Turtles-- your sons. I promise."

And he was gone.


	17. Searching

__

Thanks thanks many many thanks! We're almost there-- still have some busy work before the final battle! Thanks again!

TMNT are owned by the really nice people of Mirage! They are nice people really! I hope they don't sue me! Nice people don't sue!

Searching 

Two a.m.

Don, sagging in his chair dozing, jerked fully awake again. He'd been staring at the screen of his computer, trying to map out possible ways whoever had taken Splinter could have left the sewers from where they'd found his walking stick.

It still puzzled them greatly, the fact that there had appeared to be no struggle, no signs of a fight...

No sign of anything...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"It ain't natural!" Raph kept saying in disbelief and growing anger. "Splinter would of fought! He wouldn't of let someone just waltz right outta here with him in tow, just like that!"

Leo, still examining the ground, shook his head.

"There are definitely six sets of tracks," he said, looking at Don. Don, wearing his special goggles, had to agree-- these were the prints of six individuals, working as one.

"The trouble is, they came from different directions," Don told his brothers.

"They left in the same direction, though," Leo told them, grimly. "Back the way Sensei was coming. And Sensei was walking with them."

They had tried to backtrack, to follow the faint trail, but after a short distance even Don's technology failed them-- the trail had vanished way before the next junction, and yet there was no possible exit close by. God knows how far they had gone or which direction once they'd reached that junction-- or the next-- or the next-- or--

"Could it have been someone he knows, someone needing help?" Mike had asked hopelessly-- he wanted to believe this possibility, but he knew the answer better than the others.

"Why leave his stick?" Raph asked again. "It's for sure he didn't drop it-- it was laid carefully on the ground. No struggle, no fight, and he lays his stick on the ground!"

"Maybe someone darted him?" Mike again, still hopeless.

"He wouldn't be walking," Don, putting a hand on his brother, tried to comfort him, but there was no comfort at the moment.

"The biggest question is 'who'," Leo said, rising from the ground. "Our choices of known enemies is limited."

"Hun and the Dragons have been strangely active lately," Don pointed out.

"Yeah-- and I still don't get why he was hasslin' the homeless the other night," Raph said. "Somethin's goin' on with them. Maybe this is part of it."

Leo nodded.

"You and Casey are the best to check that out-- if Casey will help," Leo decided.

Raph, without another word, took off, knowing that Casey definitely would help.

"The problem will be keeping April from wanting to go with them," Don smiled faintly-- then had a brainstorm. He quickly dialed her number.

"Maybe Karai and the Foot--" Mikey had started, but hesitated to continue. He knew how touchy Leo was on the subject of this woman.

"I thought the same, Mike," Leo assured him. "Splinter is right-- I can't trust her. I don't trust her. I am wary of her, though I will take her word at the moment. But I don't trust her. You and I can check out the Foot."

"That just leaves Bishop," Don, finished with his call, said. "Of the known enemies, he's the last of them."

"Unless some other crazy with a grudge against Sensei has swiped another time scepter," Mikey said, as the three of them prepared to leave. "And sent him to some other dimension."

"That is the least likely scenario," Don pointed out, but not unkindly. "April is going to meet me at the Lair. We're going to go over all the records we managed to salvage from Bishop's last two labs. Maybe we can find something out."

"You should get Prof. Honeycutt to help you," Leo suggested-- then laughed at the look Don gave him. "Of course-- you've already called him, right?"

Don merely smiled. Then they all looked sober at the walking stick that Don was carrying.

"We'll find him. We'll bring him home," Leo said, always the leader, always the reassuring big brother... with no one to reassure him...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That had been hours and hours ago. April was sleeping on the couch. Don had gone over the surprising amount of information and files that had escaped Bishop's attempts to wipe clean, but they so far hadn't managed to find anything concrete. There were plenty of promising leads, but both he and April couldn't see straight anymore.

Professor Honeycutt had finally persuaded Don to let him take some of the most promising records back to Leatherhead's place with him.

"Get some rest, Donatello," he advised him kindly. "You will be no help to Master Splinter if you are exhausted."

Don shook his head.

"How can I sleep when my brothers are out searching? How can I rest when Master Splinter is-- missing? I've got to do my part from here."

And yet, it seemed for the past hour that his part was sitting, staring at the screens of his computers, half-asleep...

His computers... he remembered learning about them from TV-- from the first TV he had successfully repaired. As the world opened up to four young turtles via the TV, he had learned of many amazing things, including computers!

He remembered when he started scrounging parts and old broken computers along with the TVs and radios he'd gather for spare parts, when he'd go with Splinter on salvage operations... he remembered building so much stuff, using information from old books, manuals, and his imagination... inventions... making their lives easier...

Making inventions...

"It's a remote control toaster," he mumbled to himself, dozing in the chair. He felt all warm and loved and happy and comforted and safe.

He felt the strong arms around his shoulders, the warm fur, the ticklely whiskers of his father brushing against his cheek.

He felt like a kid again.

Then he suddenly bolted upright, fully awake. "Master Splinter!" he shouted happily, amazed beyond belief! He'd felt his father put his arms around him, heard his father speak to him. He turned around quickly, a huge, relieved grin on his face--

But no one was there!

Shocked silence. Shocked silence for perhaps a full minute...

"No," he whispered, tears of angry disappointment threatening to spill from his eyes. His breathing was hard, his heart was thumping, first from excitement, now with disappointment and panicked denial. "No! I heard him! I heard him say he was proud of me... I felt him hug me! It can't be a dream!"

The feel of those whiskers still tingling on his cheek, he got up and quickly went into Splinter's room, convinced that he would find his father just waking up from this nightmare.

The sight of the empty bed was too much for the exhausted Turtle.

He slowly approached the sleeping mat. He slowly knelt down next to it-- there was the cup he'd brought in the night before, the cup that had held the tea he'd made for him after his nightmare. Mikey and he had done all the dishes this morning, but Sensei must have forgotten to bring out the cup. He picked it up, cradling it in his hands, hoping to feel some warmth, some vague touch of his father's.

"It was a parent's worst nightmare," he could still hear Splinter say, when he wouldn't go into more detail regarding his nightmare.

Why couldn't he tell me about his nightmare? I've been telling him every tiny aspect of mine all this time. Why couldn't he tell me?

He realized that he was crying, but he didn't seem to care. Still clutching the teacup, he curled up on his father's bed, still hearing that voice; still feeling that touch.

"I know I didn't dream it," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "I know I didn't dream it. He's here. I know he's here."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Casey and Raph had been at it for hours, searching as much of the city as humanly-- or turtely-- possible.

They'd haunted every known Purple Dragon hideout, scrutinized every person they suspected of being homeless, and managed to save a few people from serious injury or death in the process.

And with each battle that ended with no result, Raph's frustration and anger grew.

"Raph-- calm down!"

The words sounded odd coming from Casey, but Raph actually heeded them, and let go of the street punk he was about to kill-- over a snatched purse.

As the two friends watched the injured punk make his desperate way out of their sight, Raph couldn't help but cry out in frustration!

"I can't take this, Casey!" he yelled, facing his friend. Aside from Master Splinter, Casey was the only one Raph found he could cry in front of, and even then it was embarrassing. It wasn't often, and it wasn't commented on when it happened.

For Casey's part, Raph had seen him shed a few tears during their friendship as well. Usually they supported each other quietly; ie, they ignored it, looking the other way and acting all unaware.

But tonight was different.

Casey actually put an arm around Raph tonight.

Neither said anything, but they didn't need to.

Then they continued their hunt.

A few hours later, they found something.

"Look! Hun and his goons!" Casey whispered.

"They're still hasslin' the homeless-- I don't get it!" Raph replied. "Hun is in charge of one of the toughest gangs in the City-- why pick on the homeless?"

"Maybe because they're lookin' for someone?" Casey hazarded a guess, as he noticed that one of Hun's flunkeys was holding what appeared to be a picture.

"There's only nine of 'em," Raph said, weapons ready. "We can take 'em."

He got no argument from Casey.

The fight was vicious, bloody and quick.

"Hey, Hunny!" Casey sang in a silly voice, smashing his hockey stick right across the bridge of the behemoth's nose before he could respond. "Did ya miss me?"

"Damn! What's wrong with your recruits, Hunny?" Raph laughed, as most of the "hoods" took off. "Times are tough without ol' Shredder, eh?"

Hun, blood gushing from his nose, led the retreat of his remaining gang.

The homeless they'd been harassing were gone-- but a bloodstained photo remained.

Raph picked it up and brushed the blood off against his kneepad. It was an I.D. badge, similar to the type found in government offices, hospitals, labratories, and so on. There was nothing on it, however, to identify the organization or place of business; just the name and a photo. He and Casey gazed at a picture of a relatively young man, African-American, rather frightened-looking.

"Well, I may not be Donnie," Raph grinned, "but I think that this is important to our search!"


	18. Searching two

__

I know, I know-- but this and the previous were together, but I felt that they were too long, so I split them up. Sorry.

TMNT ETC...

Searching (two)

It was around four a.m., give or take a bunch of minutes, when Leo and Mikey finally came home. They had ghosted as many Foot activities as they could, but nothing seemed on the scale of a missing father.

At one point Karai was spotted, but Mike was very surprised to find that Leo wasn't interested in speaking to her at all-- after all, he'd gone against Sensei's judgment before where she was concerned-- but for some reason tonight, Leo was far from interested in talking with this daughter of their old enemy.

So they had spent the night roaming around, ghosting as many as they dared-- and it had finally occurred to them that the Foot was not the easy answer.

They came home, tired, depressed, temporarily defeated, to find April asleep on the couch. Someone had tucked a blanket around her, and her head was half-buried into the pillow. She softly snored, and Leo and Mikey shared a brief laugh.

Then Mikey wordlessly grabbed a few slices of bread and went to bed. Leo opted to stay up and wait for Raph.

He noticed that Splinter's bedroom door was open, and without thinking entered to find his brother on their father's bed, asleep, but with a few tears still leaking from his eyes.

"Don?" Leo whispered kindly, a hand on his brother's arm. After a minute, Donatello opened his eyes, confused for a moment-- and then he realized where he was and what he was supposed to have been doing. He sat up quickly.

"Damn! I fell asleep!" and he tried to bolt up and get back to work-- but his brother held him firmly, so he couldn't rise from the floor.

"Don! It's okay," Leo reassured his brother. "I should have left you sleep, you need the rest."

Don, focusing on Leo, suddenly felt the overwhelming emotions of his earlier experience. A fear that had been slowly growing in his anxiety finally burst forth.

"Oh, Leo!" he sobbed suddenly, surprising his older brother. "I dreamed he hugged me! I dreamed he spoke to me! I was so sure he'd come home! What if he's dead? What if-- what if what I felt was--?"

But Leo had already swept this younger brother into his arms and held him as tightly as he could, protecting him from this "what if" as fiercely as if it were a physical enemy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raph and Casey dragged in around five a.m. Nothing more could be done. The two of them made their way to the kitchen, where they proceeded to eat Raph's dinner from the night before-- cold, congealed, but filling to two hungry warriors.

"Any luck?" April, coming in from the living room, kissed Casey on the cheek and started a fresh pot of coffee.

"Not with Master Splinter," Casey told her. "But we may have found out a reason why Hun and the Dragons have been hasslin' the homeless."

And Raph produced the photo for April's scrutiny.

"What do you think it means?" she asked, as both of them stifled yawns while trying to eat.

"I dunno," Raph grunted. "I'm guessin' that whoever Hun is workin for-- and let's face it, he's sure not lookin' for a long-lost friend-- is hidin' out among the homeless. Or at least, they think he is."

Leo came in with a red-eyed Don, and they joined them at the table.

"We had no luck," Leo answered their unasked question. "What about you?"

Raph repeated his news about Hun's activities, while Leo and Don looked at the badge.

"I wonder why he's hiding?" Don mused, staring at the picture. "I wonder who is after him?"

"Too bad you couldn't get someone to talk," Leo said, and Raph and Casey laughed.

"Kinda hard to question people when they're doin' the two-minute mile to get away from ya," Casey told them. "I don't know what's up, but the quality of Dragons workin' for Hun has dropped severely."

"Well, it's a cinch he ain't lookin' for this guy for his own benefit," Raph pointed out again. "Unless he needs a plastic surgeon. Casey managed to break Hun's nose. Between the two of us, Hun is gonna be a whole new person."

Leo sighed, suddenly tired. He wanted to take a nap, but they needed to keep looking. Raph guessed his thoughts.

"Leo, we'd better all take a few hours to rest, or none of us'll be any good to Splinter."

"I've had my nap," Don managed a smile. "And April is up-- we'll go over to Leatherhead's and get back to work. You guys get some sleep."

Leo nodded, suppressing a sudden yawn.

"Wake us up in about three hours. If you find something out, wake us up at once!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Leatherhead and Hun had gone through the window at Shredder's secret launch site. They had fallen quite a distance, and miraculously survived.

How that happened no one, with the possible exception of Professor Honeycutt, knew. Leatherhead had refused to explain his survival other than to remind them that he was "thick skinned." But survive he had.

When they'd gotten back from the Utrom home-world, Don had immediately set out to L.H.'s place to see if he was back-- and had found him injured but alive.

Somehow he had survived the fall; somehow he had managed to escape that silo before the rocket blast could fry him to a crisp. So had Hun, for that matter. Somehow he'd managed to make it back to his home, to treat his injuries, and to go on with his work.

But he refused to give the details, and no one could pry it out of him. Even Michelangelo, when his legs were still encased in casts, couldn't get the story whenever Leatherhead had visited him to cheer him up. Every "What happened?" was answered with "I escaped."

Don and April, with the I.D. badge and their laptops, entered L.H.'s lair to find him and the Professor acting cheerful.

"Ah! Greetings!" Honeycutt beamed-- well, sounded as if he beamed. After all, his robot face was sadly lacking any ability to register emotion. "We believe that we've salvaged that video that Agent Bishop showed to Master Splinter."

"The one explaining the agency he works for?" Don was excited. Splinter had told them all he had remembered of that, but Don was excited to be able to see it first hand. "Sweet!"

"We've also finished our own analysis of the blood sample," Leatherhead informed them as they all moved to L.H.'s work area and started plugging in their laptops. "Your conclusions were correct. He's somehow manipulated his own D.N.A., but we're unsure of how this has benefitted him. But we have a hunch."

And without further explanation, Leatherhead hit a button on his computer, and April and Don got a look at the program that Bishop had touted to Splinter.

When it got to the part about President Grant signing the order creating this task-force, April and Don both gasped. Leatherhead paused the show, and they studied the picture carefully.

"Oh, my God!" April gasped softly. "That's-- that's Bishop! That's Bishop standing next to President Grant!"

"He's found a way to prolong his life?" Don was almost disbelieving. "He's found-- immortality?"

"I doubt that he is immortal," Professor Honeycutt said. "But he certainly has managed to extend his life-- and his apparent youth as well. I'm not sure how-- the tests are inconclusive, but somehow he has found a way to do this."

"Can you imagine the implications?" Don breathed. "Can you imagine what the world would be like if everyone could live forever?"

"Not forever," Honeycutt reaffirmed. "I'm positive that there is no alien technology to do such a thing. The Utroms are the longest-lived peoples that I have met, but theirs is a natural process. Even they die in time. No one lives for ever, Donatello. Not even me." And he gave a sort of laugh.

"Still-- Bishop told Sensei that he was creating a new species of human," Don said. "If he can prolong his own life, imagine what he will do if he succeeds with his cloning project-- if he can ever get it going again."

Leatherhead, meanwhile, was looking at the badge that April had laid down on the table. His face was frozen in terrified recognition. Don, turning to address him, noticed at once.

"Where... where did you get this?" L.H. managed to ask.

"Raph and Casey took it off some Purple Dragons," Don explained. "They were searching for this guy. You know him?"

Leatherhead was visibly struggling to keep his temper. He was also struggling to keep from panicking.

"Yes-- yes, he is one-- one of the scientists working for Bishop," he barely whispered, and horror came into his eyes with the memory of his time with that soulless madman. "He was one of the ones who assisted Bishop in his experiments on me..."

The memory threatened to take him over. They could see his eyes beginning to change, to grow reptilian. Don placed April behind him, watching Leatherhead's every move, while Professor Honeycutt placed a calming hand on the crocodile's arm.

"My friend, you are safe from them. My friend, you are safe," he said soothingly-- and L.H. immediately calmed down; his breathing slowed, and his eyes turned back, showing intelligence instead of animal anger.

"Thank-you, my friend," Leatherhead said to the Professor. "It's just that-- I still can't forget the horrible things they did to me. This man was Bishop's assistant-- one of several. I don't remember seeing him when he first captured you. I didn't care. By that time, Bishop was doing the main work himself. I think he was keeping his assistants in the dark to the true extent of his-- 'project'."

April and Don exchanged looks at this bit of news. So Hun was looking for someone who had worked for Bishop.

"Hun and his goons are looking for this guy," April said. "He must have left Bishop."

"If he left Bishop, I would imagine it wasn't with his permission. He knows too much, even if he doesn't know the extent of Bishop's work. I wonder if Bishop has recruited the Dragons to help him find him," Don said. "But that doesn't make sense. Bishop has his own men to do that kind of work."

"Unless he doesn't want it to appear that it's he who is looking," April pointed out. "Bishop's been busy putting out the fires that keep burning his butt over that whole Shredder rocket thing, you know. I don't imagine that he wants the national spotlight on him again."

"Perhaps someone else is after this man's knowledge," Leatherhead speculated. "Perhaps there is another group who, for unknown reasons, are after information. As you said, Bishop's group-- indeed, his name, was well-publicised after the rocket took off. This-- man-- must be in hiding-- if he is hiding among the homeless, then his life must be in great danger indeed."

"Another mystery," Don said, rubbing his eyes and thinking of all he'd learned.

"At any rate, it appears that Bishop's group is responsible for Master Splinter's disappearance," Honeycutt pointed out.

"Unless there **is** another group," April reminded them. "After all, as Raph said, Hun has no reason to be looking for this guy. He may be working for some other group."

But somehow, Don was not convinced. It was looking more and more like Bishop to him.


	19. Victor Part A

__

You are all so kind, and I am so lame 'cause I don't always list your names here in the openings. I will do better later, I promise.

TMNT-- woo-hoo, they're back next week-!-- are the property of Mirage.

Victor- Part A

Don, in spite of what he had learned, had let his brothers sleep. He knew that regardless, they needed rest. Otherwise, it wouldn't matter-- if they were too tired, Splinter would suffer the brunt of it.

He had little trouble convincing them of the theory formed by him, April, Honeycutt and Leatherhead, that Bishop-- "or, though it was an outside chance, someone competing with him" was responsible for Splinter's disappearance.

"Okay," Don said to the group crowded around his computers. "I've mapped out the area where Splinter's walking stick was found, and matched it up with city maps for the surface. We know that his stick was found here-- this isn't too far from the entrance he uses to get to the portal, but it is quite a distance from the Lair. We know that he didn't fight. We know that they surrounded him, and we know that they went back in the direction he was coming from. Why not forward? Why not try to find the rest of us?"

"Their primary target was Splinter," Leo said. Don grinned in agreement. Then Leo frowned "But why not fight?"

"I'm coming to that, but let me do this first," he said, and everyone, including Raph, agreed without complaint. "Now, we lost the trail shortly before this junction, which is the first one where there is access to the surface. I've figured a radius of about oh, say, three miles from here, and mapped out the sewers as well as topside. Six guys with a large talking rat hitting the surface, even in the evening, is something someone's going to notice, so they had to have exited from a place where there is little chance of being seen. That eliminates quite a lot of places, leaving us with three prime choices-- and one of them is directly between the place they found him and the portal exit."

"How did they know he would be coming that way?" Mike wanted to know.

"I'm getting to that-- I hope," Don said. "This exit is too close to a heavily traveled area, even though it's not as busy as the rest of the city. These two are more promising-- except the one closest to the exit Splinter uses has no buildings close by."

"Why is that important?" Raph asked. "Wouldn't they just toss him in a car or something?"

"I don't think a vehicle is involved this time," Don explained. "Remember, they're trying to keep low-key, not like that time they chased us through the streets, and definitely not like that night at the Shredder's place. I'm guessing this second exit is the one they took Sensei up-- because close by are five buildings that are abandoned. And from experience, Bishop's labs seem to be located under abandoned buildings-- well, except that one where we came up in mid-town."

Leo thought this over.

"Well, it makes a lot of sense, Don," he had to admit. "It may be worth spying out all five, see if we can spot any strange activity."

"I don't get it," Raph said. "How did they know to find Sensei? How did they know just where to ambush him? And how come he didn't fight? And how come he didn't try to get home? If he coulda got away, he coulda lost them easy."

"I can only guess," Don slowly said. "I'm thinking that they were searching for a while-- remember, they came from different directions. Allowing for my three mile radius, they were hunting individually, which means they must have been sure of their ability to catch Sensei."

"If he had run into 'em one at a time, he'd of beaten them, and this would be a non-problem," Raph was confident.

"I agree," Don said. "I'm thinking that maybe one of them spotted him as he left the sewers near the alley where he opens the portal. It was too late to take him, so they lay in wait, hoping to surround him-- and they did."

Don looked at his computer-generated maps again, as if he were watching his father being ambushed by six unknown humans.

"I'm guessing that once he saw he was surrounded, he decided to surrender. It could be that they were heavily armed-- or that--" and Don suddenly found that his voice was choking up on him, choking up at verbalizing this next part of his theory. He roughly cleared it, trying to regain his normal tone. "Or-- he gave up so that they wouldn't find us."

He had tried hard to say it as normally as possible, but it ended up coming out as a whisper.

"That doesn't make sense," Mike said, suddenly upset-- suddenly upset with the explanation, with the situation-- even with his brother. As Don had talked about their theories and shown the maps, Mike could feel the white-hot anger growing in him.

Bishop! This was Bishop-- he didn't care that Don and the others had created a shadowy "other group" as a safety net-- that was stupid, so damn stupid! It was Bishop!

And they had to have overpowered their Sensei! Splinter wouldn't go with them willingly. Not his father! He would have fought, would have summoned his sons!

He would have defeated them all and come home!

"Mikey, the evidence is pretty plain," Don tried to reason with him. "Sensei went with them."

"Why would he do that? If he could get away, then we would help him defeat them for good! I don't understand! We could have--"

"I know!" Don snapped, feeling as if Mikey was blaming him for something. "I mean-- look! The night before this happened, Sensei had a nightmare. I heard him, and woke him up from it. But he wouldn't tell me what it was-- he just said it was a parent's worst nightmare regarding his children. Maybe he had a premonition! Maybe he was being overly protective! The fact is, he didn't fight, and they left with him in the same direction he'd just come from-- **away** from the general direction of the Lair."

"No, it doesn't make sense!" Mike shouted back. "This is so wrong! Sensei knows we would help him! This is so wrong! You're wrong!"

"Mikey--" Don tried again, but Mikey wasn't having any of it.

"They darted him! They made him walk! He didn't go willingly! He wouldn't-- it was Bishop's group, he wouldn't go with Bishop's group!"

"Mikey," Raph began, placing a hand on his brother's arm. He could feel the emotion in Mikey through his skin; hot, burning rage, rage and denial and frustration seemed to radiate from every inch of skin that Raph's hand came in contact with.

Now Mikey turned on Raph, and the older turtle was startled by the amount of emotion in Mikey's eyes, on Mikey's face. At the same moment Mikey knocked Raph's hand away, hard.

"You're all wrong! If this was Bishop's group, he wouldn't go with them! You know what Bishop did to him last time! He wouldn't just go with them! He was coming to us for help, and we didn't help him!" Mikey shouted. "He wouldn't leave like that! You're all wrong!"

And before anyone could respond, Mike bolted from the room.

Don sagged in his chair, feeling as if he were to blame. At the same time, a spark of anger was growing in him as well-- anger at his brother, at himself--

Anger at Splinter for not fighting, for not coming to them--

He squeezed his eyes tightly, preventing any hot, angry tears from escaping. He was so **not** going to cry like a baby!

"Uh, we'll go after him," Casey said, and he and April left to see if they could catch up to Mike. Professor Honeycutt was studying Don's maps again, and Leatherhead was patiently sitting on the floor, keeping his council.

It was Raph who actually comforted Don.

"It's okay, brainiac," he said nonchalantly, a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Mikey will realize he's 'Raphing' and come back."

Don, his face buried in his hands, started laughing-- mainly to keep from crying. His resolve was giving way, and he was starting to leak tears between his fingers. But he laughed.

Leo smiled at Raph with gratitude and at Don with relief, as his younger brother laughed at Raph's comment.

He hadn't told his brothers about Don's conviction that he'd been touched by the "ghost" of their father, that it had taken Leo almost forty-five minutes of forceful talking to convince Don that it was fear and exhaustion, not Splinter's ghost, that had triggered his vision--

And that, if Don had **had** such a vision, then Sensei most certainly was alive!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mikey couldn't explain to himself why this news was killing him. As he raced through the sewers, running off his anger, he kept trying to figure out who he was angry at.

Splinter? Was he angry with Splinter?

Why didn't he fight? He would have fought-- he's a great fighter, six of Bishop's men would be an easy workout for him. Look how he took out all those Foot ninja that time-- Mikey's ankle was sprained, Don and Raph were exhausted from fighting all night-- Master Splinter had handled the entire group without breaking a sweat!

Mike slowed down his running, began to walk. Dripping sounds, the gurgling of unseen pipes, the splash of his own feet through the nearly constant stream of water filled his ears but couldn't cover the sound of his father's voice in his mind, teaching them how to fight, teaching them how to survive--

Teaching them how to live.

Bishop. He had had a feeling it would come down to Bishop.

"He wouldn't have gone willingly with Bishop's men," he tried to convince himself. But he knew that they were telling the truth. He'd seen it with his own eyes, the evidence. He knew the signs as well as the others. He had tried to find reasons that night when they'd found the walking stick, but those had been hopeless reasons.

His father had done it to protect them, and he realized that. And it pissed him off to no end!

"We're not babies," he muttered. "We're Ninja! We look after our own! He should have fought--"

Yes, he realized. He was angry with his father for not coming back to them.

He stopped, and stood in the dark tunnel, heedless of the rats, the smells, the background noises. He stood in the dark tunnel and closed his eyes and sighed.

I'm sorry I was angry with you, father. I know that you did what you felt was best. Please be safe. Please come home.

He opened his eyes and took a healing breath. Then he realized just how far he'd run.

He was past the place where they'd found the walking stick, almost up to the exit that Splinter used when going to the portal that opened into the Nexus.

He turned and headed home.

And though he was skilled, and completely aware of what was around him, he didn't notice that he was being followed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You have twenty-four hours to bring me the Turtles," Bishop had said. "I want them dead before me."

Victor quickly and confidently moved through the sewers. He had entered where the so-called "Super Soldiers" had exited the day before with the rat-- with Splinter, he corrected himself. He is a living, intelligent being, not a "thing".

Victor's plan was simple; he would travel the tunnels in the general direction Splinter had been taking. He was certain that the Turtles would be out looking for their father, and he would have no trouble locating them.

The trick would be to earn their trust. He had their father's robe tightly rolled up and secured to his person. Bishop had said to use it as bait. The sight of the blood-stained clothing would make them careless, he had explained, but Victor knew that Bishop was hoping to deal them a psychological dirty blow; kicking them while they were down, so to speak.

Victor would use the robe in a different way, though he knew the sight of it would bring them pain. But he must succeed in convincing them of his sincerity. He wanted to help.

And he wanted help in return.

He hated his creation. He'd been "manufactured", not born. He'd been designed and made, partly from the tissues of his creator, partly from other sources, including Splinter. As he had grown in understanding, he found himself also growing in emotions. He had learned about compassion from Michelangelo.

He had learned about love, hate, joy, sorrow, anger, and guilt from Frankenstein.

He had learned that he hated what he'd been created for-- but he loved being alive, and he wanted to stay that way.

Twenty-four hours. He wondered briefly if that was all the time he had left. Bishop had been very insistent on this. He only had twenty-four hours.

And two of those hours had already passed.

He had traveled a good distance when the noise of someone running towards him sent him climbing up the tunnel's wall to hang from the ceiling. He "cloaked" himself (A/N: In "Bishop's Gambit", the Slayer could "vanish" much like the Foot Tech ninja) and waited for this person to pass.

Michelangleo, running at full speed, passed beneath him up the way Victor had just traveled.

Perfect! He would contact this one, and then perhaps the others would be willing to accept his help.

Still clinging to the roof, he followed Michelangelo back up the tunnel. He observed this Turtle's actions; his slowing down, his stopping, his-- his-- Victor was puzzled. He'd read the term in the book, but he had not seen crying in action.

Michelangelo was crying. Victor watched, amazed, fascinated with the fact that water-- tears, he recalled from the story-- tears were running down his face from his eyes.

He could hear him muttering about Bishop and "Sensei", and shamelessly eavesdropped on Mikey's muttered conversation with himself.

He waited patiently while this Turtle stood still, eyes closed, and watched with great interest the look of calm that slowly came over a face previously so full of anger and despair.

Then Mikey turned and started back to his home.

Victor followed, waiting for the opportunity to make himself known to this Turtle in a way that wouldn't bring confrontation. He did not want to fight him.

Mikey was passing through a large open area, tunnels branching off in many directions, when Victor decided that this would be as good a place as any to reveal himself--

"Mikey!" a voice echoed up the tunnel, and a few minutes afterwards, two people came rushing up to the Turtle.

"What are you guys doing here?" Mikey, who had been calm, started to feel a bit angry again-- can't a guy just be by himself without a bunch of babysitters looking for him? But he forced himself to take the bite out of his words and himself, and managed to smile at these two friends.

"We was worried," Casey said as if it were no big deal. "Sue us. You okay?"

"Yeah, I am now," Mikey admitted, accepting April's hugs and kisses, yet complaining about them at the same time. "Jeeze, April, I only was gone for a little while, not forever. You'll be making Casey jealous if you keep this up."

Casey snorted, started to punch Mikey on the arm the way he did Raph all the time-- then changed it to a brotherly pat.

"I don't care!" April's voice was a mixture of relief and anger. "How dare you run out on your brothers like that, and how dare you treat Don that way. It's not his fault, or our fault-- and it certainly isn't Splinter's fault!"

"You're right," Mikey smiled, amused at April's lecturing him. The guys loved to see her get riled up; she was cute when she was angry. He'd always heard that expression, but it wasn't until he'd met April that he'd understood it.

"Now, let's get home!" she ordered, not to be distracted with his compliant smile. "The guys are worried enough as it is without you adding to it. March!"

Victor followed.

It seemed that he would be meeting everyone at once.

So much the better.


	20. Victor Part B

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Chapter 20! OMG! This thing keeps growing and growing! It's gone longer than I expected, and I am still terrible in that I need to name people by name, especially Llama and Doppleganger-- and yet I fear this chapter is already too long!

TMNT is owned by Mirage, and that includes Peter Laird, who is a good man so there, J. W.!

Victor- Part B

It had been easy to enter the Lair with the two people and Michelangelo. All Victor had to do was pass through the doors at the same moment, stay cloaked, and stay on the walls and ceiling. He made his way to a dark corner where he could watch and wait for the most opportune time to reveal himself to the Turtles.

He saw the other turtles surround Michelangelo, alternately greeting him with relief and dressing him down for his actions. He heard him respond to all of their comments, and he saw them embrace him or otherwise touch him some how.

Victor felt an odd sensation in his throat, and wondered briefly if he was having some sort of malfunction. He could feel a tightening in there, a strange constriction that seemed to coincide with this reunion of these brothers.

"We've made plans for scoping out the five buildings Don thinks are good starting points," the one in blue was saying, as they led Michelangelo and the others to a table where Victor observed the crocodile Bishop had mentioned-- Victor smiled to himself-- it wasn't what he expected; but then, nothing Bishop had told him had been what he had expected, he'd learned. He also observed the robot he vaguely remembered from the first encounter. The two people were also joining them-- obviously they did not consider these Turtles or the others as strange. Perhaps they might accept him as well?

That strange tightening in his throat happened again, and he once again worried that perhaps he was having a malfunction of some kind.

"If we split into teams of two, we can each cover a building, and then meet up if necessary for the fifth one," the one in blue continued.

"And if we find something, all of us meet up at that location," the person Michelangelo had referred to as Casey said.

But the one in blue-- "Leo" they called him-- was shaking his head.

"This is our fight," he said. "We are not taking you guys with us. We appreciate your help with scoping out the situation, but when it comes to going in, we refuse to take you with us."

"You will not be **taking us**; we will be going **with you**," Leatherhead insisted. "I, myself, have personal reasons for going. I believe that I have as much right as you to endure this risk."

"Indeed. You need all the help we can provide," Honeycutt stated. "I believe I am not bragging when I say that I can handle many of the security systems, as well as access the computer programs that control them."

"We can be of great assistance," Leatherhead added. "Aside from my personal reasons, I owe Master Splinter much."

"Well-- I understand and appreciate what you say. But Casey and April, I honestly don't feel that you should be involved. This isn't your fight," Leo tried again, but April got angry.

"Leo, you tried that with me before," she snapped. "Remember? The Shredder and his men had nearly killed you; had thrown you through my window? You told me to run, that it wasn't my fight. Remember what I said?"

His brothers looked at him; they'd been too busy fighting to know what she was talking about, but Leo, though he had been severely injured, recalled it clearly.

He looked sheepish. He looked uncomfortable and sheepish.

But he was too honest to pretend ignorance.

"You said 'we're family. I could never run out on you guys.' But this is different!"

"Nope, the only difference is there's more of us, and we're volunteering'," Casey pointed out. "We're not being forced into it by circumstances. When I saw what was goin' down that night, I coulda just ignored it-- but I knew that those guys were up ta somethin' that had to do with you guys, and I couldn't turn my back. And I can't turn my back now. The only difference is, that night I had ta decide quickly."

"And we love Splinter, too," April added. "I know he raised you, but he's been like a second father to me, and I have to help him! And you guys can't stop me!"

"Indeed, we all feel strongly about this, Leonardo," Honeycutt mildly put in.

Leo sighed. He didn't want to risk everyone, but what choice did they have? They'd helped with the Shredder; why not with Bishop?

"Too bad Silver Sentry isn't around to help with this," Mikey mused. "A super hero would sure be handy." But the hero in question was on a special mission to the Utrom home world, and there was no time to summon him.

"Too bad we don't have a transmat beam of our own," Don smiled suddenly, "and we could whisk Sensei out of there in a flash. But we can handle this without any fuss."

And they all suddenly smiled at the thought, while preparing for the grim reality that they were on their own.

At this point, Victor decided the time had come to act.

Still in cloaked mode, he stealthily made his way to a promising-looking door. He was careful to open it and close it without drawing attention to himself, and once inside, he allowed himself to revert.

The decor suggested to him that this was someone's private chamber. He guessed it was the chamber of Splinter. The place was tastefully yet plainly furnished with many peaceful, harmonious touches and decorations.

Victor had, when unobserved, researched Japan-- part of his plan to contact the Utroms and ask for refuge on their planet. This place spoke of commitment, contentment, peace, strength. On one wall, near a low table containing only a candle and a scroll, was a picture of the Turtles.

Fascinated, Victor studied this image. The background scene was evidently the outdoors; trees, a building Victor took to be a dwelling, lots of grass were evident, but the grouping of the Turtles is what drew his attention. The one in blue-- "Leo"-- was standing rather peacefully, contemplating the camera as if he were resigned to having this picture taken. The one in purple stood next to him, wearing an embarrassed look-- Victor got the impression he was trying to speak to whomever was taking the photo. He obviously wasn't ready for the shot.

Kneeling down in front of them, Michelangelo and the one in red appeared to be trying to headlock each other. Michelangelo looked as if he were enjoying it. The one in red looked angry.

Victor felt that odd constriction in his throat again as he gazed at this picture of these Turtles. Splinter must be fond of this particular shot. It had been enlarged and elegantly framed. Yet it was just these four Turtles in poses that one would not normally expect in a group shot.

A noise outside the room reminded him of his mission. He carefully unrolled Splinter's robe, and just as carefully laid it out on the sleeping mat. Then he got to work.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The room was dark again, and cold. Splinter, in so much pain that he could not remember when he had not hurt, lay on that table, wishing again and again that he could turn over on his side and simply go to sleep.

He had slept in spite of the pain, but only because his body, pushed to its limits by this treatment, simply could not go on, and he would more or less pass out-- and yet the pain was still there.

His determination to survive was ebbing at the moment.

So cold. So cold, so tired, so uncomfortable, so angry---

Angry?

In his semi-conscious mind, he laughed. He was not angry-- this anger he felt was not his. Must be one of his sons' anger, come to nag him into doing something. Must be Michelangelo's anger--

His eyes flicked open at that.

Michelangelo? Michelangelo's anger? Vaguely he shook his head. It can not be. It must be Raphael. Raphael is the one who expresses his anger, not Michelangelo. Never his youngest...

Never...

__

"Michelangelo, I am disappointed in your behavior," he said to this "youngest" turtle. Splinter glared severely at this four-year-old Turtle tot, who was standing in the middle of a huge pile of flour, eggs, and milk. Splinter had worked hard to find such food-- he had managed to enter a small market in the dead of night and "purchase" these items, leaving behind a note and an appropriate amount of the money he had been finding every now and then in the sewers and tunnels. And now nearly half of it covered his son.

Michelangelo mournfully looked at the mess, as if he were surprised by its being there, then turned his gaze back to his father.

"I didn't do it," he said. "Raph and Don tricked me. They said we could bake a cake for you, and I could jump outta the cake."

"And how were you to bake this cake when you know you are not allowed to use the stove?"

Michelangelo stood there, trying to think of a good explanation. The truth was, he had annoyed his brothers so much with his jokes, that they had played one on him-- and landed him literally in this mess.

"Why are you the one in the middle of all of this, while your brothers are in their room, having the naps that **you all** are supposed to be taking?" Splinter asked, and Michelangelo knew that he had been set up good. There was no point in trying to argue or blame. He hung his head and tried not to cry. He knew what was coming, and he probably deserved it.

"I will help you clean up this mess, and then we will get you cleaned up," Splinter said, getting the supplies. "And then you will take your nap, even when your brothers are up from theirs. You are confined to your room until I am calm enough to punish you."

Through it all, Michelangelo never once uttered a complaint against his treatment-- or his brothers. As Splinter had thought about the entire incident the rest of the day while he put the others through their basic beginners' lessons, he reflected that, had Raphael or even Donatello been the one caught in the mess, both would have registered complaints on the unjust treatment they were receiving. Leonardo would perhaps accept it, but even he was known to mutter under his breath when he thought Splinter couldn't hear.

But his youngest, though upset, never once complained.

And later, when his brothers had snuck into the room to, in their minds, rightfully gloat over his coming punishment, Splinter (who had shamelessly followed these two culprits) never heard one word of complaint from Michelangelo, not one word of accusation--

Or anger.

Get upset? Get mad? Yes, he has done these things. But get angry? This cannot be Michelangelo's anger. He would not be so angry with me for not fighting, for not returning to them...

Once more Splinter's eyes flicked open, and he stared at nothing as the realization fully came to him. Michelangelo was angry with him; angry with him for not fighting, for not returning to them.

He sighed, and closed his eyes. He had tried to reach them before, but the pain was too much. But now he concentrated as hard as he could, he tried as hard as he could to reach out to this youngest son, to soothe away this anger, to comfort him. He did this for as long as he could, and eventually his own pain seemed to recede, to let up. He felt-- comfort.

He fell asleep feeling that his son understood.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, we're set," Leo said. The teams had been formed, the buildings assigned, the equipment handed out. April was to carry a katana for the first time, but if she got the chance she was to grab as many weapons as she could. She had done this before, when she and Casey had helped Splinter rescue the guys from Bishop the first time.

Don had explosives. Mike was scared to death. He had been partnered with Don.

"Do I have to? What if he trips and KABOOM?" and the noise, plus the gestures that accompanied this "what if" not only startled Don into almost dropping his pack, it knocked him off balance as well. Both of these nearly caused the brainy turtle to have a heart attack.

Don, recovered quickly and without warning, smacked Mikey on the back of the head, hard!

"I'll make sure to keep a safe distance from you, chucklehead," he frowned at him. "Believe me, I would rather partner up with Raph or Leo, but one of us had to get stuck with you, and it was my turn."

Mikey looked shocked as well as insulted.

" Your **turn**? You guys take **turns** to be my partner? Some family!" he sniffed, injured pride showing in spite of the seriousness of the assignment.

"Guys," Leo mildly cut in. Both brothers said "sorry"-- but stood apart from each other. Leo shook his head. "Now, I think that--"

But what he thought was put on hold. A sound, a familiar sound, had froze them.

The door to Splinter's room had mysteriously opened.

On its own.

"What the..." Raph couldn't even finish the curse. The guys had drawn their weapons without thinking, and they all faced the open door.

In plain view they could see candles lit! Candles!

As one, the entire group moved to the door, on alert. Don was scrambling through his bag, looking for his goggles, but having trouble locating them quickly.

Leo held up a hand; nodding at Raph, the two of them slowly entered the room, looking around, keeping the others from following for the moment.

Candles were everywhere. Every candle that Splinter owned was lit. The table where he meditated was crowded. The night stand near his bed held many as well. Candles surrounded the bed mat--

"AAHHH!" the cry of recognition tore from Raph's throat before Leo could register in his mind what he was seeing. Heedless of the candles, Raph had rushed to the mat, froze for a moment, and then snatched the blood-stained robe from where it had been laid out-- laid out as if for a funeral.

Now the room was crowded with panicked, stressed Turtles, people, robot and crocodile. Everyone was talking at once, and no one was making sense to anyone.

"How did it get here?"

"Master Splinter! Master Splinter!"

"Let me see--"

"How did it get in here? Who broke in here?"

"We gotta find them!"

"Raph, let me see!"

"NO! Master Splinter!"

Raph kept clutching the robe, holding it as if it were the body of his father, crying over it, refusing to allow anyone to take it. The shock of this discovery numbed his mind to anything going on around him.

Don was scanning the room with the goggles, but with so much candle light he was having a hard time deciding if there was someone else hiding in the room.

Leatherhead and Mikey began putting out the candles, and the resulting smoke began to sting the eyes and irritate the nostrils.

"There is someone in this room!" Honeycutt announced over all the chatter, and everyone abruptly shut up.

"Yes," a voice startled them all more than they already were. "I am in this room."

And standing in the doorway, blocking any exit, was the Slayer.

Without warning Leo launched at this being, who "vanished", and managed to knock Leo back into the room, upsetting Raph and April.

Don, goggles finally picking up the body heat of the Slayer, attacked with his Bo, landing several blows before being thrown bodily into the Professor.

Casey and Leatherhead fared no better. The crocodile perhaps stood the best chance, but Victor had been prepared-- he applied pressure to the right place, and Leatherhead dropped to the floor, momentarily stunned. Casey was sent crashing into the wall, knocking down the family portrait and burning himself on the still hot wax of the multitude of candles that were on the table he collapsed upon.

Then the Slayer reappeared, still in the doorway.

He looked at Mikey with those strange eyes.

"Michelangelo," he said, as everyone regained their feet. "I have a message for you-- from Splinter."

"What?"

"Where's Master Splinter? What have you done with him?"

"It's a trick! He's killed Sensei and he's here to trap us for Bishop!"

They prepared for battle again-- all except Mikey, who stood between them and the Slayer.

Victor, fully aware of their movements and plans, nevertheless kept his eyes on Mikey's.

"Michelangelo," the Slayer said again, moving slowly forward. "I have come to help you. I have a message from Master Splinter."

Raph growled, launched himself quickly at this monster-- and was forcibly blocked by Mikey!

"Mikey, what the hell?"

"Raph, wait!" Mike cut him off loudly, keeping himself between his brothers and the Slayer-- with his back to the enemy!

"Michelangelo!" Leo shouted angrily, swords ready. They had rarely heard such emotion in his voice like that. "Get out of the way!"

"You don't understand!" Mikey said, pleading with Leo while preventing him from acting. "He's not the same! You have to believe me! He's changed!"

"Maybe he's under some sort of mind control! Some sort of posthypnotic command!" Don, Bo staff ready to take out his own brother-- for his own good-- speculated, working his way around Mikey's left, while Raph tried getting around Mikey's right.

But Michelangelo was suddenly on guard against his brothers, protecting their enemy!

"Let me explain!" he kept begging them, as they slowly closed in on their brother and the creature he was protecting. Now Casey, April and Leatherhead had joined the group, all looking for a way to move Mikey and attack this creature that had invaded the Lair.

"He was gone a long time," Leo nodded; none of them were listening to him, they acted as if his body was there but not his mind. "Bishop could have done something to him while we were searching for him."

"Will you please listen to me?" Mikey screamed, backing slowly up towards the Slayer. "HE'S-HERE-TO-HELP-US!"

Now they all froze-- not because of his words, but because he was right up against the Slayer, who had still not moved a muscle to either attack them or (and this is the part they truly couldn't believe they were seeing) attack Mikey.

It was quiet for about a minute. Then:

"I am here to give you a message from Splinter," he said again. "I am here to help you free him."

The brothers didn't know what to think.

Mikey, certain that his brothers would not attack for the moment, carefully turned and faced the Slayer.

"Did you choose a name for yourself?" he asked. The Slayer nodded, that strange stare focusing on this turtle.

"Victor."

"Victor? Why him?" Mikey asked, weapons down and ready to discuss the novel, as if nothing else mattered. "I mean, sure, there weren't many names to choose from there, but you could have found something somewhere else. Why Victor? He was the real monster in that book."

Victor shrugged.

"Perhaps because of that; after all, he was as you say the real monster. I am a real monster as well," he said calmly. "He was not quite--- human. I am not quite--- human. But I have looked on the Internet and 'Victor' is a strong name. I must be strong. I must--- be victorious."

"Dude," Mikey sighed. "I think I understand. I guess it makes perfect sense."

"Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Raph, the first to recover, shouted, stepping forward again, ready to battle, and at this point he didn't care who he encountered first, this Slayer or this crazy brother of his.

But Mikey turned once again, facing his brothers.

"He's telling the truth! Please! If he had wanted to kill us, we wouldn't be standing here!"

They looked at each other, skeptically, and then looked again at Mike. He was begging them.

Finally Leo sighed.

"Okay. I'll listen. But Raph and Don will be on guard-- by the door! The others are to be allowed out of here-- in fact," he said, turning towards the large crocodile, "I would suggest, Leatherhead, that you and Casey get yourselves, April and the Professor to safety once you're out of this room!"

He turned back without waiting for an answer, and looked this creature in the eyes, and Mikey could see that Leo was deadly serious.

"I don't trust you, but if Mikey is willing to vouch for you, then I will listen. But my brothers and my friends will be out of your reach."

The Slayer-- Victor-- agreed. He slowly turned and backed into the room, allowing them to move to the exit. He waited until they were out of the room, with Don and Raph in place by the door.

Mikey refused to go with the others. He followed Victor as if they were good friends, causing Don and Raph to both shake their heads, fearing for their foolish brother, but trusting Leo to not let anything happen.

"I'm sorry about--" Mike began but Victor shook his head.

"There is no need. I understand. I understand completely. The last time we met-- the first time we met, in fact, we were enemies."

"Still are as far as I'm concerned!" Raph growled, still clutching Splinter's bloodstained robe.

Victor simply stared at him with that strange gaze of his.

"Well, go on," Leo said, sheathing his katana and, true to his word, listening. He even moved within easy reach of this being, to show that he would trust him. "Give us this message."

"Splinter said to tell you he loves you and to stay away from Bishop's place," he said, aware of the emotion this simple message suddenly stirred up in these four Turtles. He could feel the emotion welling up in them, but he had no time to observe it or comment on it. "I promised him that I would not kill you, though I have been ordered to do so by Bishop. I want to help you free your master. But I will want something in return."

"And what is that?" Leo asked skeptically.

"Life."


	21. Victor Part C

__

Well, another chapter before the long weekend is over. Thanks to Machias Banshee, Llama (as usual), and Doppleganger. To Doppleganger-- I disagree, Silver Sentry is not some government stooge, and he would help if it were an option! Oh, and anonymous-- the sensation that Victor kept feeling and mistaking for a malfunction-- that meant he was choking up with emotion. It's a new experience for him, and therefore unexplainable. He hasn't got the hang of these things yet.

TMNT are sadly not mine. Otherwise, there'd be a mother of a party at my place. But they belong to Mirage, and they haven't said anything about any parties...

Victor-- Part C

They all looked at each other. Victor calmly returned their gazes.

"How can we give you life?" Leo asked, intrigued.

"There are six 'super soldiers'," he said, as if Leo had not asked a question. "Unlike me, they are-- were-- regular men whom Bishop has genetically altered with what he'd gotten from you as well as Splinter the first time. With the help of someone called 'Chapman'--" here everyone gasped or groaned at the name of that maniac-- "he has mutated them further. Since they captured Splinter, Bishop has been modifying these six, as well as preparing to mutate more of those whom he calls 'volunteers'. There are no others who are-- created-- like me. Yet. And not all of the 'volunteers' survive the treatments. But one of the things we all have in common is what Bishop calls the fail safe."

"What is it?" Don asked.

"A tiny devise that has been implanted in our brains. We all have fail safes implanted in our brains," Victor explained. "So, if Bishop loses control of us, he can kill us. At a preset command, it will explode, rupturing a large part of the cerebral cortex. Death. Or, if we live, more fodder for research. Either way, death."

Mikey's eyes were not the only ones closed against the extent of the cold horror that Bishop was capable of. Don looked as if he would be ill, thinking of what he'd just said: "Or, if we live, more fodder for research."

"I still don't understand how we can help you--" Leo began, but Don cut him off.

"What's the command? How is it triggered? Is it mechanical? Does he push a button? Computer-generated command? Or a verbal one, one only Bishop has the power to activate-- you know, to guard against someone accidentally setting it off by uttering that particular word?"

"A combination," he replied. "He keeps a special radio link in his watch. He has a key phrase to open that link, and then all he needs to do is give the command to self-destruct. Only," Victor ruefully smiles, "we are not actually self-destructing. He is the one destroying us. We each have a code name. Mine is 'prototype'."

"So, the activation phrase that opens the link is the same for all of you," Don said, thinking furiously. "Then all he has to do is say 'self-destruct' and the code name?"

"Yes. And he does not need to be in contact with it. It could be across the room, on a table, and if his voice can reach it, the fail safe is activated. It causes much-- anxiety-- when he does it, and we can hear," Victor said impassively, yet they could all see the horror in his eyes. "I witnessed the accidental destruction of three other 'volunteers'. And I have seen what happens to anyone who--- survives."

"Well, that explains why you can't off old Bishop yourself," Raph growled, disappointed. He'd been planning on asking this Slayer-- Victor, he forced himself to think-- why he didn't just kill Bishop himself.

"Yes. He has the ability to destroy me at a simple command. Since the arrival of Stockman, the fail-safe has been perfected-- no more accidental destruction. But he has gotten rid of a few others for-- failure."

He looked at the Turtles and their friends. Everyone had edged their way back into the room as the story unfolded, and now everyone was registering their shock at the depths this Agent Bishop would stoop to.

"He--- treats me differently--- but I know--- if he knew of my current development, of my thoughts and feelings, I would soon be on the dissecting table, being salvaged for reusable parts."

"He's not human," Mike kept muttering. "He's not human. Even Frankenstein had some shame. He's not human."

"He's obsessed," Don stated. "He's been making this his life's work since after the Civil War-- you saw the proof. That **was** Bishop in that photograph; that was Bishop all those years ago! He's managed to manipulate his DNA-- before anyone even understood what DNA was! He's made himself immortal."

"Donatello, I have tried to explain that he is not immortal," Honeycutt interrupted with a tone of impatience.

Victor nodded his head.

"Bishop is mortal. He is just long-lived. He can be killed. It is just difficult. He is mortal. He heals like I heal. You stab him, wound him, he heals. I believe that you came close to killing him before. Vital organs must have been missed."

The guys exchanged glances.

"He can't regenerate?" Don asked. Don had thought that perhaps Bishop, now that he knew about the DNA, could regenerate his organs-- they all remembered him hanging from that hook!

"No, not regenerate-- at least, not anything important," Victor said. "I am the same. If you cut of my hand-- or his-- it will not grow back. But it will heal over. At least, that is the theory. He is mortal."

"Yes," Leo agreed. "He is mortal, and he can be killed. But right now, we need to concentrate on rescuing Master Splinter. You can get us to him?"

"Again, yes. I have only twenty-four hours to find and kill you," he said. "Bishop wants your bodies before him. I am probably being paranoid, but I get the impression that the twenty-four hour time period is significant-- to my usefulness." And the bitter smile on his lips wasn't lost on any of them. "I've already used up five of those hours, getting here and finding you. I heard your plans. The entrance to Bishop's base is in one of the buildings you were going to search. But the actual location is quite a distance from there-- underwater, in fact."

"Underwater?" Mikey moaned. "Just how is this guy able to build so many places, and all of them underground-- and now underwater?"

"He has gathered much alien technology and understanding over the decades. Besides, this place was pretty much already there," Victor replied. "I believe Bishop and his men found it a while ago. It had been built and used by some madman genius. A surprising amount was made from salvaged parts."

Don looked at Mikey. This sounded very familiar to the two, but they refrained from comment.

Victor remained quiet, staring at them with his strange gaze.

"I don't know, Leo," Raph finally spoke up. "Why trust him?"

A simple question that was also an excellent question.

Why trust him, indeed?

"Leo, what choice do we have?" Don asked in response. And that was true as well.

"I believe him," Mikey said quietly.

Leo looked at the others. Leatherhead sighed.

"I believe him as well, for what it is worth," the Crocodile said slowly. "I believe that he really means it when he says he wants to help. I understand his feelings." Then he looked directly at Victor. "I understand this feeling of wanting a 'normal' life. You want acceptance. I feel this. I believe you."

"Indeed," Honeycutt contributed. "I do not understand why any of you are not accepted on your own planet. But then, I have always-- lived-- where differences are not noticed. They are the norm. The only time it was difficult was when General Blanque was in charge. I believe him as well, Leonardo."

"I'm sort of with Raph on this," Casey said. "I mean, it's a good story and all. But he admits he's gotta bring you guys back within twenty-four hours, and dead on top of it. How do we know a convincin' story like this ain't a trap?"

April looked at Victor, and bit her lower lip, trying to make up her mind. Everyone was making perfect sense. She had always trusted her gut instinct-- true, her gut instinct had made her question her sanity when she'd met the guys, and had encouraged her to view Casey for so long as a long-haired, muscle-brained goof-- now she was concerned that her gut instinct to trust Victor was also wrong.

She thought of Splinter. Precious time was passing.

"I trust him, Leo," she finally said. Then she turned a fierce gaze on Victor. "But if you're lying, you won't have to worry about Bishop killing you! I'll take care of it myself!"

Leo sighed heavily. He bowed his head, and closed his eyes, and wished with all his strength that Master Splinter could advise him.

"You must follow your heart, my son," remembered words came back to him-- Leo couldn't remember when or where he'd heard these words from Splinter, but they came back to him as if his father were standing next to him, speaking into his ear.

He opened his eyes.

"Okay. I'll trust you," he said simply.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The plans were revised and set. The others were resting up. It would still be dark when they finally moved out. Victor said the men under Bishop's command were fewer at the early hours. Resistance would be less at that time.

The main challenge, he reiterated, would be the six "super soldiers".

"He has dressed them as Ninja, and trained them well," Victor had told them. "They are skilled-- but I can still beat them. They are powerful, quick, and almost non-human anymore. You will have trouble with them."

Raph had snorted, but no one commented.

"Hey, Victor," Don said, joined by Honeycutt and Leatherhead. "We'd like to talk to you about that fail safe."

"There is no way we could possibly remove it," Honeycutt informed him, "but we thought perhaps we could figure a way to disrupt it so that the command doesn't go through."

"We are hoping you can tell us more about it," Leatherhead concluded. "What frequency it operates on, range, anything you might know."

And they led Victor over to Don's work area, discussing things like filters and shields.

Mikey was snoozing on the couch, looking peaceful. April was busying herself with medical supplies. She knew that they would be needed, especially for Splinter. Casey was helping her get stuff in the Battle Shell.

It had been decided that they would make three teams. One would get as close to the base as possible with the Battle Shell. One would use Don's underwater sub to get there (once the security was taken care of, that is), and the third team would go with Victor through the tunnels. Leo and Raph had reserved that job for themselves. Once inside, they would use the special devise Don had given them to tap into the security systems. Then Professor Honeycutt could take control of them, as he had with Shredder's place, and the others would be able to enter. Leatherhead, because of his size, would come with them.

The part that concerned them the most was Bishop. But Leo had a plan, and even Raph agreed it was a good one.

While the others were occupied, Leo, looking carefully around to be sure no one could hear, handed something to Raph.

"What are-- trackers?" Raph, looking in his hand, saw that Leo had given him at least seven of the trackers Don had made.

"I'm being cautious," Leo explained, and showed Raph that he, too, had at least a half-dozen in his own hand, as well as one of Don's tracking monitors. "I don't want to lose Bishop this time. Get as many of these as you can on him. That way, if he escapes, we have a good chance of finding him."

"With any luck, it won't be necessary," Raph said, low. Leo shook his head.

"It's not going to be easy. We need to be prepared. If we load him up with these, our chances increase that we end this once and for all tonight."

Then he looked around the room again, looked at Mikey snoring on the couch, one leg draped over the back of it, drool running out of his mouth. He then gazed at Don, who was in animated three-way conversation with the Professor and Leatherhead, while Victor sat impassively in the middle, watching all three. Then he turned back to Raph.

"I'm not trying to sound melodramatic, but-- you'll take care of them, right? In case?"

Raph didn't crack a smile or a joke or a sarcastic snort.

"Yes. And you?"

"Yes. If one of us-- look, we have to each make sure the body is destroyed. We don't need any more madmen experimenting, especially on the remains."

"If we're **both** taken down, it's gonna be a bit of a problem carryin' out that command, Fearless Leader," Raph couldn't help grinning.

Leo grinned in reply.

"You're right. I guess the only solution is to make sure we don't get taken down."

And they hi-threed each other.

Leo looked at his family and friends again.

"Let's go get Master Splinter."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bishop was restless. It had been too long since his Slayer had set out to find the turtles. He was confident that the Slayer would have returned by now, laden with the lifeless bodies of these hated freaks!

He glanced at his watch. He had left at the end of their "business day" with the rat-- around five p.m. Ten hours of the twenty-four had passed, and Bishop was growing more anxious by the moment.

Had these freaks managed to best his Slayer? Perhaps he should have sent the others with him.

He wandered the facility. Sleep was something he'd found over the decades that he rarely needed any more. The knowledge he'd gleaned from alien survivors-- just before they regrettably died-- had grown to the point where he had not only been able to prolong his own life, he'd managed to eliminate, though not completely, those basic human needs that normally were required to function.

Sleep was one of them. The need for food and drink were still there, but they, too, had been reduced in frequency. He found that a few meals a week were all he needed to keep functioning.

He was still trying to perfect the regeneration process. He'd been damn lucky that the hook he'd been blown onto had managed to miss the most vital of organs. He had hopes, though-- it seemed that the liver had been grazed pretty good, but it had slowly healed, so there was hope that he could eventually find the key to making all of the organs regenerate quickly from the most serious of wounds.

His fondest goal was to develop a way to ensure that, should an arm or leg be destroyed, it would grow back, but he knew that there were limits even to his abilities. Still, it was nice to dream.

His ramblings through the facility led him to the lab where the rat was still strapped, lightly drugged. Bishop entered, switched on the lights.

There he lay-- his prize specimen. Semiconscious, in pain-- and all his. He gazed at Splinter, and couldn't help but feel victorious-- and contemptuous.

Splinter, aware that he was in the room, opened his eyes and gazed back.

"Enjoying your stay?"

"Indeed," Splinter managed in as polite a voice as possible. "Your hospitality has been most generous."

Bishop, for some reason, lost the smirk off his face momentarily. This mutated accident was too peaceful for his liking.

"It's only just beginning," he gritted through his teeth, moving to the tray where the instruments for tomorrow's work were waiting, sterilized and sealed in protective plastics. "I've prepared a gift for you. One of my special inventions." With special forceps he held up a small item, rather square, flat, a tiny thin thread of wire protruding barely a half-inch from one end. The entire think looked no bigger than a child's fingernail, yet Splinter got the distinct impression that it was a deadly devise indeed.

"This, my favorite specimen, is one of my new and improved 'fail-safes'," he breathed, holding it closer for Splinter's inspection. "This particular one is going to be implanted in your highly-developed rodent brain. And then I shall not have to keep you strapped down and drugged."

"What makes you think that this toy will prevent me from escaping?" Splinter asked, still in that politely interested voice. For some reason, his tone was grating on Bishop's nerves.

"This 'toy' is a highly developed control switch. Unlike the ones implanted in my soldiers and the Slayer, this one is not simply used to destroy out of control servants. This one will give me control over your movements, your thoughts-- your life. I have been dying to test it out, but strangely enough, I have had a lot of trouble finding suitable and willing volunteers."

"That is puzzling, indeed," Splinter, struggling to stay conscious, still managed to keep that calm, detached demeanor. The pain was back, worse than ever, and this man was clearly out of his mind. But Splinter was still master of himself, and he was going to prove it Bishop. "Still, I am sure that you will not find it as powerful as you think. I will never willingly submit to anyone's control. You will not, by any means, ever control me."

Bishop was getting pissed. This rat was stupid to believe that Bishop couldn't do these things. Normally this type of response from others was nothing to him; water off of a duck's back as it were. Others had scoffed or doubted, and it bothered him little what they thought.

But this rat! Something about this mutated rat drew out the anger in him. Splinter's attitude was setting him off, filling him with the need to prove it to him, prove it beyond doubt to him-- and the more painful the proof, the better!

Suddenly Bishop jerked the lab table into a more reclined position, setting off more pain through Splinter's already damaged body. He roughly dragged over the harsh glaring lights he and his assistants used to illuminate their grisly work. Splinter heard the careless clattering of the instruments as he got them in position, and then Bishop was looming over him again.

"You'll forgive me if I don't use anesthesia on you," he sneered. "But the man who helps me with that is still in bed. He's had a long day with my other projects, and I wouldn't want to disturb him. I suggest that you try to move as little as possible. This will help you in that respect."

Now Splinter's head was strapped firmly to the table. The strap was drawn so tightly across his brow that he could feel it nearly cutting into him at the least movement.

The sound of something buzzing momentarily caused his calm, determined demeanor to waiver, but he quickly regained control of himself.

"A little off the top?" Bishop joked, as he shaved down a patch of fur on top of his head, so that the skin beneath was more accessible. "Don't worry, it'll grow back and the scar will be minimal at best."

Splinter felt the dripping cold sting of antiseptic as Bishop swabbed the newly bared spot. He closed his eyes and prepared for the bite of the scalpel into his flesh, steeling himself against even more pain-- and fear.

As the cut came, a noise disrupted Bishop's work. The door opened automatically. Bishop cursed, turning to this intruder-- and froze.

There, framed in the light from the hallway, was the Slayer.

He was carrying two turtle bodies, and both were dripping with blood.


	22. Victor Part D

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Okay, I have heard a few rumors, so I will just keep this short and say thanks again for the reviews and kind words. I'm not good at writing action, so you are warned ahead of time.

TMNT are the property of Mirage.

Victor-- Part D

Bishop stood and stared in delighted shock as his Slayer moved forward, unceremoniously dropping the bodies before him. He turned and entered the corridor again, only to reenter dragging a large mutated crocodile by the tail-- the trail of blood was horrendous, but Bishop was overjoyed beyond expectations!

"The crocodile as well?" his voice was so joyful, so surprised and pleased and joyful, that Splinter, strapped down as he was, unable to see anything, knew beyond a doubt what Bishop was talking about.

Bishop, Splinter forgotten for the moment, moved to the bodies and stared. The sheer joy, the undisguised exultation in his voice alerted Splinter to the news that his sons were dead; that this creature, this "Victor" had lied to him.

Pain from his heart welled up for a moment, overwhelming the physical pain of the incision in his scalp, the many tubes in his body.

For a moment, Splinter, half-drugged, completely in pain, gave himself up to despair...

My sons, he thought, fighting hard to keep control in spite of it all. My sons! I have failed you! I am sorry! My sons!

"Where are the others?" he heard Bishop's greedy voice, and his eyes snapped open; his resolve suddenly tripled; his will suddenly became as white-hot steel...

"In the tunnels, dead," Victor replied calmly. "I couldn't carry all of them, so I brought two of them, plus the crocodile. I thought you would appreciate the gift."

I will kill you both! Splinter thought fiercely, working as desperately and as quickly as he could, trying to free at least one hand. I will kill you both, and then kill myself for failing my sons! I will kill you both!

Bishop sounded as if he were drooling, he was so pleased.

"Help me get them on the tables! I want to preserve as much as possible!" And he leaned down to grab the nearest turtle--

And gasped in shocked disbelief as a sai suddenly pierced his torso!

"Surprise!" Raph's voice reached Splinter's ears-- he couldn't control his emotions-- he started to cry such tears of joy-- and fear, fear for this son!-- such tears!

The sound that Bishop made was indescribable. He staggered back, and wrenched the sai from his side, tossing it aside as if it were nothing more than a minor nuisance. Blood gushed down his body, pooling on the floor-- and then the flow slowed; stopped, and Bishop's outer body healed. Raph had managed to run him through, but had missed the heart and lungs.

But Bishop was hurting!

By now both Leo and Raph were on their feet, as well as Leatherhead. Before Bishop could gather his thoughts, the three of them were upon him, pressing home their attack swiftly.

In spite of his wound, Bishop was still an excellent fighter. He had trouble, but he did his best.

The biggest shock was the blow he received from his own Slayer!

Victor closed with him, almost overpowering him. His hand on the watch, he managed to wrench it from Bishop's arm and crush it as completely as possible.

"So, it comes to this," Bishop, breaking free, turned to face his creation.

The mirror-image of his own face stared back at him.

"I never asked for this life!" he said. "I never asked for this existence! You made this choice for me! Now I choose my own future!"

"Fool! You choose death! The control in the watch isn't the only way I have to destroy you!" Bishop sneered, and the Slayer once again closed with him. Bishop was an excellent fighter, and though it was difficult, he managed to break the hold his creation had him in, and tossed him aside as if he were a rag doll.

"I will not let you hurt these beings anymore!" Victor shouted, as reinforcements entered the lab--

Only to be met by Don, Mikey, Casey and April, who had found their way there at the same time!

"Gee, Don, we almost missed the party thanks to your bad sense of direction!" the welcome sound of Michelangelo's voice came to Splinter, and in spite of the danger, he felt such joy, such relief!

"Hey, not my fault you can't read a map!" Don's cheerful tone lifted Splinter's resolve even higher, and he managed to finally break one hand free!

He desperately worked the strap securing his head, heedless of the loss of blood, trying to free himself so he could join his sons in battle!

"Now, Master Splinter," Honeycutt, who had come in directly after the others, had quickly made his way to the table, and gently prevented Splinter from doing more damage to himself. Blood was everywhere from not only the slight incision, but his forehead as well. The strap had cut into him in his struggles. "Take it easy, Master Splinter! I will free you, but you must take it easy!"

April and Casey, a beautiful team, seemed choreographed in their movements as they dealt with the guards who came near them. Casey's sheer strength, combined with April's natural gymnastic abilities, effectively dealt with at least seven of Bishop's men in very little time.

Leatherhead-- words could not describe the sheer raw power this being exhibited as he dealt with those few foolish enough to venture near him, to engage him! Expensive machinery was destroyed in the process, but it mattered not to Leatherhead whom or what he was destroying.

Don and Mikey worked their weapons to deadly perfection, and managed to clear the way for Leo and Raph to once again close with Bishop-- Bishop who, now that the initial surprise was over, arrogantly waited for their attack.

"Fools!" he started to shout. "You actually think yourselves---"

The rest was lost in a concerted attack by Leo and Raph. Blood spurted from the stunned Bishop as katana and sai bit into him again and again.

But he managed to repel their attacks again and again.

Then Victor grabbed him from behind in a spine-crushing embrace.

"I--- never--- wanted---" he emphasized each word with another squeeze, another tightening of his arms. His goal was to break Bishop's back. "I--- never---"

Bishop kicked against Raph who had moved in for another attack, and the momentum helped unbalance Victor, sending him staggering back into one of the strange machines in the lab. His grip loosened just enough that Bishop slid from it, immediately turned, and delivered several blows to Victor's throat, stunning him. Before anyone could act, Bishop pulled a large, square devise from his inner pocket and aimed it at his creation.

"I've always got a backup plan!" he shouted. Don's bo staff sent it flying from Bishop's hand-- but not before he'd activated it.

Victor froze. Then his body shook a few times, as if he were receiving an electric shock. The look of sheer pain on his face, the incredible look of sheer pain, was nothing compared to the grief that welled up in his eyes-- his hands slowly went up to his head, as if he couldn't quite believe that he was hurting--

His eyes were dull, unseeing now. Tears were spilling from them. Tears. Blood started dripping from his ears, and he slowly collapsed to the floor, to his knees.

"Victor!"

Mike's voice seemed to register with him. He turned his head in the direction, but his sight was gone, along with his ability to speak, to acknowledge this Turtle in any way.

A stray thought flitted through his damaged, dying brain: Life.

Without a word he pitched forward on his face and lay still.

Mikey's 'chuks smashed against Bishop's forehead with such fury blood flew across anyone standing close by. Mike smashed him again, but the injured agent snatched one of the weapons and used it against this angry, shouting turtle.

Don and Raph both struck him, and Raph managed to take the 'chuk from him. Leo moved in again and with one swipe Bishop's hand was on the floor.

Blood once again gushed from Bishop, only to slowly stop as the strange healing ability took place.

But he was hurting! He was hurting and knew that he must escape! His body couldn't take more of this! He must escape!

Bishop staggered back from the concerted attacks of the brothers-- and disappeared through a hidden door in the wall!

"Damn! NO!" Raph was shouting, trying to get the door open. Casey and April were fighting a few more guards who had come through the open lab door. April managed to grab a weapon, and as Casey disarmed the last of them, she covered them menacingly.

"Just don't move, boys!" she ordered, as Casey rounded up the walking wounded. "Just don't move! I couldn't possibly miss from this distance!"

"Aww, jeeze, April, that is so cliché," Casey groaned, ignoring the dirty look she threw in his direction.

"Master Splinter!" Don and Leatherhead were now assisting Honeycutt in gently and carefully removing the various tubes and the I.V. drip from the damaged, tortured body of the rat. "It's all right, Sensei! We've got you! We're going to take you home." Don, rummaging in his bag, brought out some gauze and began to make a temporary bandage to stop the bleeding.

"Victor?"

Mikey had gently turned over the body of the Slayer-- of Victor-- but he knew it was no use. The plan to destroy the watch had worked, but they had failed.

It's not fair.

Mikey stared at the face of Victor, hoping that he was mistaken and that he was alive, just injured. He stared hard, hoping that the eyes would slowly open and recognize him. But he knew. He knew it wasn't going to happen that way.

It's not fair.

He stared at Victor's face, and knew.

He actually looked at peace.

It's not fair!

He just wanted to live! He just wanted his own life! He didn't ask for this!

"It's just not fair!" he shouted, his own tears dripping onto the peaceful face of Victor.

"Mikey, give us a hand!" Don's voice cut through his confused, angry thoughts, his rage, his grief. "Mikey! Come on! Sensei needs help!"

Mike tore himself from the body and quickly joined in tending to his father, who in spite of his own pain and suffering could see that his youngest was suffering as well.

Splinter, weak from the confinement and tortures and drug, weak from pain and loss of blood, managed to take hold of Michelangelo's hand and squeeze it in comfort and understanding.

Mikey so wanted to be a little kid again so his father could hold him in his lap while he cried. That squeeze of the hand steadied him, and he joined the others in carefully removing the last of the straps and tubes from Splinter.

"Uh, fellas!" Casey said, and they turned to where he was standing. "Fellas, there's a few more people in here, and they don't look so good."

Leatherhead and Leo joined Casey and saw that in the far reaches of the lab, there were more tables-- and a few of them held semiconscious men, strapped and tubed much as Splinter had been.

Leo turned and stared at the cowering guards. He moved swiftly and snatched up a startled man by the front of his uniform, and bodily dragged him to the tables, roughly throwing him up against one with an indescribable growl.

"Your own people!" he shouted at the terrified guard. "Your own PEOPLE!" By now Casey had dragged another over. April, weapon indicating the direction, had the rest of them move there as well, and they were put to work freeing these so-called "volunteers".

"My sons," Splinter weakly said, as Don and Mike helped him to sit up. "My sons, we must get out of here. Bishop is loose. We must--" a dizzy spell caused him to momentarily sag against Michelangelo.

"Take it easy, Sensei," Don soothed him. "We'll get out of here, but you've got to take it easy."

"Hey, where's Raph?" Casey asked, looking around. He noticed for the first time that the hidden door through which Bishop had escaped was now open again.

As if in answer, Raphael suddenly appeared through that door, a huge grin on his bloodstained face, a tracking devise in his hand.

"Leo! Found him!" was all he said, and left the room again.

"Don, you and Mikey take care of Sensei! Get him out of here! Take him home! Casey, you, Leatherhead and April make sure they have a way out! And make sure those others escape as well!" Leo commanded, and he followed Raph who was following the signal.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Don yelled to them, as he and Mikey supported the injured Splinter.

"Get Sensei out of here! Take him home!" he yelled back, but Don almost followed them.

"Leonardo!" Splinter managed to shout. "What is going on?"

"Raph and I have a little unfinished business to take care of, Sensei," came the faint reply. "We'll see you at home!"

Fear came to Splinter's face as he realized what his sons were up to. The activities of the past few months, the extra training, the huddled conversations, suddenly flooded Splinter's memory, and suddenly made sense.

"No! I forbid it! Stop your brothers!" he told Mike and Don. "Stop them! They must not be allowed--"

But it was too late. Don and Mike had no way of finding them at the moment.

"We must find them!" Splinter insisted, as they got him to his feet. He tried to race after his sons, but he was so weak he could barely stand. "We must find them and stop them!" He tried again to walk, but collapsed. Only the arms of his sons kept him from hitting the floor.

"Where have they gone?" Don wondered, trying to ease their father's worry. "We need to get out of here."

April, going to one of the many computer terminals in the room, got online and tried to pull up a plan of some sort that would give them an idea of where the other two were headed, but it would take precious time to locate the information.

"Hey! I think Raph still has one of my 'chuks!" Mike realized, looking confused. "Why would he need it?"

"Revenge," Splinter softly said, as Leatherhead gently lifted him in his arms. "He needs it for revenge."


	23. Bishop

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I am so once again grateful for your kind words of support. This is the big one right here. I hope you enjoy it and are not disappointed!

TMNT is the property of Mirage-- hey! I got the new Leo-- you squeeze his legs, and his arms "spin"-- sweeeeeet...

Bishop

True to their agreement, Leo and Raph made sure that the others wouldn't be involved once they had located Bishop. When Raph had called to Leo that he'd found him, they had both taken off down this private corridor as fast as they could go, following the twists and turns as if they knew the way instinctively.

Their fight with Bishop had given them hope-- they had wounded him to the point where he'd had to flee-- and in the process, from the first moment when Raph had stabbed the unsuspecting man, they had managed to place every tracking devise Leo had "liberated" from Don's work desk on their enemy.

A few of the beeps indicated that he'd either found or accidentally dropped some on the way, but Raph and Leo followed the strongest group signal on the tracker, which never wavered.

Twist, turn, the corridors were a maze in this underwater bunker, but Leo and Raph unfailingly followed the signal.

They ran into a small group of armed guards.

"Halt!" the man in charged ordered.

Raph was already on him as he gave the wavering order to "fire!"-- then he spoke no more. Leo's katana, dripping blood, were coated in more as he and his brother ruthlessly and swiftly dealt with these men who stood between them and their revenge.

Neither one allowed himself to think about anything other than Bishop; there would be time for remorse later.

The remainder, though armed with heavy firepower, were none the less hesitant to use it in this underwater facility. It mattered little to them that Bishop had time and again assured them it would be safe-- they had not relished this assignment, this location-- this entire deal!

Swift, brutal, and hopefully painless, Raph and Leo dispatched as many as they could before the rest turned tail and ran for their lives.

No time to worry about the dead and dying.

More running, more running.

More fighting.

More blood.

And the two brothers were almost identical in their appearance, the blood of many staining them to the point that they were leaving a fairly grisly trail for the others to follow.

More running, more running-- one more turn, one more brief battle where the weapons and skill and determination of two well-trained Ninja were no match for the panicked resistance of a handful of well-armed men-- men who did not want to die for any reason!

They found him in the training room-- a large "dojo", well-stocked with the latest in training equipment and plenty of weapons-- and only one way out.

Inside was Bishop and his six so-called "super soldiers".

They were dressed all in red, Ninja-style, from the tabi boots to the hooded masks. Their weapons gleamed in the light, sharp and dangerous-- one had katana, one sai-- one wielded the naginata, a long pole with the razor-sharp curved blade at the end. A fourth one was twirling the chain end of the kusarigama, a long-range weapon that looked like a short-bladed scythe with a long weighted chain attached, while the fifth and sixth stood ready with the shinobigatana-- the short "ninja" sword, complete with long chord for easy retrieval.

"Look, Leo! Wannabes!" Raph laughed, eyes on Bishop the entire time.

"Kind of reminds me of one of those really bad martial arts movies Mikey always wants to watch," Leo grinned in return, eyes also on their target-- yet neither one took the planned resistance for granted. "You know, with the really bad dubbing?"

"And how about that? They're all that stand between us and our old pal Bishop. Hello, Bishop," Raph continued to grin, ready to finish this one way or the other. "We never really got to chat earlier. How's the evil scientist business?"

Bishop was suffering, but slowly healing. His arm where Leo had chopped off his hand had sealed over-- it was a freaky sight, no scar, no anything to indicate that he'd ever had a hand. The wounds they'd inflicted on him in the lab were not visible-- but he was suffering. Blood took time to regenerate, and Bishop was coated in enough to alert the Turtles to his weakened condition.

He was sure that the internal injuries would heal with time-- and he intended to have that time!

"Ah, the mutated freaks have managed to track me down," he said, showing his usual arrogance. "Ready to let me finish what I started all those months ago?"

"Oh, something is going to be finished today, you can count on it," Leo said grimly-- and with a grin that matched Raph's in deadly determination. "We guarantee it."

"You freaks may have corrupted my Slayer, but you've yet to face my most powerful of men. And they are incorruptible." Bishop gloated. "But you are stingy, offering only two of you to fall to my 'super soldiers'. Not much of a challenge for them. They had been looking forward to fighting that poor excuse for a father of yours, but even he knew he'd not fare well. Gave up at once. And now here are you two, by yourselves, getting ready to take on six of my best. Fools to the end."

"I guess so, pal," Raph laughed, and he deliberately turned and, with a showy flourish, disabled the computerized door so no one could get in-- or out.

The gesture was not lost on Bishop. He actually looked a bit worried.

"It's hardly a fair fight, Raph," Leo said, absently wiping one of the more bloodstained katana on his wrist band. "I mean, there's three for each of us."

"Yeah. The first part, though, that seems fair," Raph, twirling his sai, nodded in thought. "But there is Bishop. Hmmm... I guess we'll have to share him."

"You two are pathetic," Bishop snarled in defiant return. "Gentlemen, attack."

It was a violent, bloody fight.

Words cannot describe the battle.

Both sides sustained serious injury.

The 'super soldiers' had that strange, unnatural ability to heal-- but not at the rate of the Slayer or even Bishop. They were skilled and deadly, and the fight was vicious.

Leo and Raph, working on sheer adrenaline, were doing more damage to these six than what they were doing to them.

The chain end of the kusarigama snaked out, entangling Raph's left wrist. At the same time the man wielding it gave a mighty yank, hauling Raph towards him and the waiting business end of the weapon.

But Raph went with the movement, accelerated his own speed by breaking into an unexpected run, and both sai did their job-- the left blocking the short blade, the right piercing straight through the owner.

Leo, faced with the two carrying the shorter shinobigatana, was impressed with their fighting skills. He smiled to himself. Good. That would make this all the more easier. There was no honor in killing the unskilled--

Leo looked as if he were performing a graceful kata-- only this one resulted in the loss of limbs.

But they could heal. And the guys couldn't.

It was a violent, bloody fight.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well, the trail is easy to follow," Mike said grimly, as they came upon the remains of the first group of guards who had tried to stop them. Though the corridor merged with another, it didn't take long to find the bloody footprint of a turtle pointing the direction that the two vengeance seeking brothers had taken.

April kept her eyes averted as much as possible. She had known that it would be gruesome. She had witnessed such horrors a lot this year. But it didn't stop being horrendous.

They couldn't talk Splinter into waiting in the Battle Shell. He insisted on going-- he had to stop his foolish sons, he kept insisting, and they knew that it was impossible to keep him from accompanying them. So Leatherhead was carrying him, while Casey and Mikey led the way, and Don and April provided close cover protection-- after all, Leatherhead would be hard pressed to fight while assisting Splinter. Honeycutt brought up the rear, carrying Don's bag of tricks so the turtle could be free of the distractions.

Another group of unfortunate guards were discovered. The blood was making it hard to travel through the area quickly; the floor was slick with gore. April could feel her stomach churning as the smell of death assailed her nostrils; she swallowed again and again to keep from throwing up. She would have felt ashamed at such a happening.

Next to her, Don could feel his stomach churning as the smell of death assailed his nostrils; he swallowed again and again to keep from throwing up. He would have felt ashamed at such a happening.

Now they could easily see the foot prints of both turtles as they ran down the hall; in the distance they saw an open door, and literally skidded to a halt, cautiously approaching. From where they were they could hear the battle.

They entered to find themselves in a chamber that resembled a combination resting area and monitoring station, equipped with couches for relaxing on as well as workstations that seemed to allow visual access to all parts of the facility. At the far end was a large door that had no knob or apparent way of opening it except by an electronic combination.

The sound of fighting grew louder as they approached this door.

Right outside the door, the sound of the fight could be heard plain as anything.

The yelling, the cursing; the literal noise of fighting, the clash and clang of steel on steel; the sickening sound of flesh being pierced by razor sharp steel; the throat tearing screams of those whose flesh was being pierced by razor sharp steel; the shouted commands of Bishop, demanding that his men "Kill them! You are stronger than them! Pathetic bastards, KILL THEM!"; and the words spoken between brothers bent on ending this here and now.

"Donatello! Open this door! We must stop them! We must!" Splinter, forcing Leatherhead to put him down, was almost frantic in his desire to get to his sons, to prevent this suicide!

But Don, Honeycutt, and Leatherhead were not having any luck with the disabled computer lock. Honeycutt tried again and again to correct the damage; Don and Leatherhead desperately tried to electronically jimmy the lock.

A monitor attracted Mikey's attention. He looked closer.

"The fight! I can see the fight!"

It was a small monitor-- the larger ones were not working, and this one, small and in black and white, was not showing the best picture. Much damage had been done to the system. April and Casey joined Mikey, crowding around this tiny "window" into the next room-- while Don, Honeycutt and Leatherhead continued to desperately try to open the door. Splinter, leaning heavily against the wall, kept his eyes riveted upon their work, poised to enter as soon as they could open it.

"Raph, behind you!"

"Got him! Duck, Leo!"

"Fools! You are just prolonging the inevitable!"

"Then do us a favor and die already! Hyyyyy--yahhh!"

"I will destroy you both!"

"Here's a present from my brother Mikey!"

"And this is for Master Splinter!"

The blood was flying. So were the body parts.

The screams were deafening. Some of the cries of pain came from the guys-- but these were immediately followed by battle cries in Japanese and English. These they did to encourage each other, and it worked-- they couldn't heal like these "super soldiers" but they had their own healing in the strength of each other, in the defiant strength of each other!

April couldn't watch. Even though the reception and picture were not very good, even though the feed was in black and white, she couldn't watch.

Even Casey had a hard time.

Now there were only five standing.

Now there were only four.

Now only three-- Bishop and the boys.

"So much for super-soldiers," Raph said coldly.

Bishop wasted no more words.

The resulting fight was even worse than what had just taken place.

The camera feed to the monitor was damaged. The images were blurred to the point of being unrecognizable.

Then it gave out all together.

But the sounds-- the sounds were horrible!

They seemed to go on forever, though it was probably only ten minutes.

They could hear Leo, but not Raph.

They could hear Raph, but not Leo.

They could hear Bishop, but not the guys.

Horrible gurgling sounds! Horrible gurgling, choking sounds greeted their ears! Horrible horrible-- the noise of something soft being hit repeatedly with something hard-- the gagging of a throat that has been severely injured-- the swish through the air of a weapon being quickly and powerfully swung at an enemy, ending in that abrupt noise of metal striking bone... the groans... the whimpers... the gasps...

The silence. The heart-stopping silence.

Splinter stood frantically outside the room, calling to the boys, while the trio tried every way possible to unlock the computerized door.

"My sons! My sons! Answer me! Leonardo! Raphael, my son!" he kept shouting, while April supported him and tried not to show her fears for their lives.

"Stupid computer locks!" Don shouted, hitting it with his fist once before Leatherhead stopped him from injuring himself.

"Here, let me help," Casey finally said, and, with the help of Mikey, smashed the door as hard as possible with one of the couches present in the room.

Leatherhead pushed the heavy door open, and they all stood frozen at the sight.

The brothers were standing in the middle of a blood-coated room, dripping with gore, surrounded by bodies and body parts.

In front of them-- what was left of Agent Bishop.

Mangled, hacked into several pieces; head smashed in places so that brain matter was spilling onto the floor; so much blood. So much blood.

Bishop had been dealt with permanently.

There would be no sequel to his evil.

April recoiled in horror at the carnage. Casey gagged and struggled to keep control. Mikey averted his eyes for a moment, then forced himself to look at his brothers.

Splinter gasped at the sight of his sons. They stood there, holding each other up. Leo and Raph were supporting each other physically and emotionally. They were drenched in blood-- both their bandanas were red with blood; their feet were covered up to their ankles in blood, as if they'd been wading in pools of it. They swayed slightly, then steadied each other, breathing hard it appeared; gasping it seemed, from emotion and exhaustion.

And yet they made no sounds.

They couldn't move, it seemed. They were frozen in time, statues in a gory tableau of retribution.

They were victorious, but not jubilant.

And they strangely looked at peace.

They were bleeding so much, Splinter feared for their lives.

Don, Mike, Leatherhead and Casey, all four fighting the revulsion that touched even the giant Crocodile, got them to move out of the room-- "Come on, guys... that's it, slowly... that's the way... almost there..."-- and April, seeing no other survivors, partly closed the damaged door.

They collapsed together, once outside the gruesome room.

"They will die together," Splinter feared in a whisper, then banished the thought from his mind, and determined to save their lives, began ordering everyone with practical commands to do what he wanted.

"My God, you guys are going to bleed to death!" April muttered, trying to take care of Raph's immediate injuries with Mike's and Leatherhead's help.

"You should see the other guys," he laughed weakly. "Here, Mikey-- I borrowed this," and he handed Mike his 'chuk, dripping with blood and brain matter. "Bishop said thanks for thinking of him... uhhh..."

"Most of this... is theirs, anyway... " Leo managed to say, as Splinter and Casey tried to take care of his worst wounds with the items at hand, while Honeycutt discovered a small adjoining room where first aid supplies were kept, returning with the welcome items that were desperately needed; everything that Don and April had packed wasn't enough for the extent of these wounds. "Most of... this is theirs.."

"Dude, that is not true," Casey contradicted, putting pressure on a particularly deep cut on Leo's arm while waiting for Don to make a thick bandage to put over it. "Sit still! Let us get a bandage on this!"

"We will discuss this later," Splinter said sternly to the two, "but for now, let us get you home!"

As Casey, April, Mike, Honeycutt and Splinter helped the wounded out of the facility and into the Battle Shell, Don and Leatherhead made sure the place would never be used again. Once the word came that the place had been evacuated of all survivors (including the remainders of Bishop's men and the "volunteers"), the timers were set. Don left in his sub; Leatherhead opted to swim.

The explosion rocked the area for a half-mile, sending a geyser of water high into the air and startling local fishermen.

Bishop was dead.

Now it remained to be seen if Leo and Raph would join him.


	24. Aftermath Part A

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Hi! Well, here come the final chapters. They're the "aftermath" stories-- gee, I wonder why she called the story that? Anyway, I wanted to get this up, and there are probably two more to go-- no real action, just dealing with the enormity of what they've done-- and healing of course. Lots of family stuff, so some of you may want to skip these parts. Thanks as usual for all the support. Once I'm convinced that I won't go to jail for naming you all, I will do so.

TMNT are the property of Mirage! I can handle this bit of news because Buslady has found me a YOSHI figure with lil' Splinter perched on his shoulder! Thanks, B.L.!

Aftermath-- Part A

They were both unconscious by the time the Battle Shell reached home. Don and Leatherhead arrived back just as Splinter and the others entered the Lair from the elevator, carrying Leo and Raph as best as they could.

"Put them in my room," Splinter commanded, leading the way, as Leatherhead rushed over to take Leo from April and Mikey.

"But Sensei, I think they'd be better off--" Don tried to say, following his father anxiously, but Splinter was deaf to his son's wise suggestion.

"No. I need them in my room. I must have them here. I do not want them in the infirmary. I do not want their last moments--" He forcefully stopped himself from expressing this terrifying thought of his, and took a deep breath. Instead he began arranging the bedding, dragging the extra futon from its storage place to a position next to his own. He worked in spite of his own injuries, his own exhaustion.

"Gather everything we will need, Donatello, and bring it in here," he continued, as Casey and Leatherhead carefully lowered both injured turtles to the floor, sitting with them, supporting them until Splinter gave them the word to put them to bed. "We will make this the infirmary. Michelangelo, we will need much water and every towel we own. We must clean the blood from them before we can begin anything else."

He looked at these two foolish sons, more dead than alive. Both were still seeping blood-- both were so coated in the blood of their enemy, of the men they had killed, of their own--

Splinter turned and busied himself with preparing the other futon. Leonardo would take this one on the left, he thought, and Raphael would go in his. This way he could sit between them, tending to them both.

He moved his low table to a position between the two. It would be good for holding the things needed to care for these foolish sons-- he forced himself to breathe deeply again. His emotions were struggling to gain control of him. The events of the past few hours-- indeed, of the past few days-- were threatening to overwhelm him, to master him, to conquer him

These foolish sons! Anger at them, at their suicidal mission, was making itself heard clearly, and he was desperately trying not to listen.

I have no time for anger! I must save it for their recovery! I have no time for anger!

As he waited for the water and medical supplies, he looked again at these blood-drenched, badly wounded Ninja; these two might warriors who had taken on and defeated on of their most deadly and powerful enemies, as well as his corrupted and defiled "super soldiers"; these two brave and determined fighters-- and only saw two foolish sons-- two young turtle tots--

Two much-loved children.

Don returned with the needles, thread, antiseptics and every scrap of bandaging material he owned. He wasn't happy with having his brothers in here. What was the point of Sensei having him set up and maintain an infirmary for all these years if he wouldn't make use of it? It would be hard to care for them in here, especially if one of them... both of them...

Don deposited the supplies, and moved over to Leo. His brother needed a transfusion; he was sure in fact that both of them needed this. He'd have an easier job of doing it in the infirmary, where the items were ready to hand. Why did Splinter insist on having them in here?

Then he looked at his father, working at every little thing he could think of until the water and towels arrived. He needed to rest. He needed his own wounds, his own injuries dealt with. He still had blood on himself, he still had blood seeping through the bandage across his forehead. Instead, he busied himself as if he didn't dare sit still, as if time spent working was the only precious thing in the world.

It dawned on Don, as he watched his father moving with such determination, that he needed a robe. Victor had returned his robe to them, but it was bloodstained and needed cleaning. Don hurriedly rummaged the closet, and grabbed the robe that Mikey had seen in April's shop a while ago. It was a gaudy red, with embroidered dragons all over it, and Mikey had so fallen in love with it that he scrounged up the money to buy it for Sensei as a "birthday" gift (though none of them really knew his real date of birth).

And Splinter had thanked Mikey warmly for the gift, wearing it for that day and then putting it away, insisting that it was too fine for everyday wear, but that he would always put it on for birthdays and other celebrations "involving our family"-- the others knew he did not wish to wear it, but Mikey had been satisfied, and that was all that mattered.

He grabbed this robe and wordlessly persuaded his father to put it on, for it was cool in here, and he needed to be covered.

Splinter sighed, accepting the robe, looking at his two foolish sons.

"Yes-- it is a family occasion after all," he whispered in Japanese.

With those few words, Don suddenly realized out of the blue that Splinter wanted Leo and Raph in here in case one of them-- or both of them-- died.

Family. Splinter wanted his sons to spend their last moments in a familiar place; a family place.

A family place. He thought of the past year-- how he'd spent time in this room, feeling safe and loved in that family place, and it cam home to him just how frightened his father was that the family might lose one or both of them.

It was odd-- this was Splinter's private room, and usually the guys were summoned here for discipline or special occasions. But it was also a family place, a place where each of them could come to when they needed a father, not a sensei.

A family place. Now he understood. Now he grew scared. Then he pushed it down and got to work.

Mike and April came in with large basins of water, while Honeycutt delivered the towels, and they set to work; Splinter, Casey and Mikey working on Raphael, Leatherhead, April and Don cleaning up Leonardo.

As Splinter was bathing Raphael's face, he had a vivid memory from long ago, when the turtles were five years old. Raphael and Leonardo had gotten into a fight just outside the old Lair, out in the sewers, and had come back home covered from head to toe in raw sewage. Splinter knew that Leonardo would bathe himself willingly, but Raphael had come home angry and defiant, and did not wish to wash away what he considered "wounds of honor! I was in the right, Sensei! I ain't washin' it off until Leo admits that I was right!"

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"You will not live in this place smelling of the outside," Splinter firmly said, and bodily picked up this filthy, stinking, struggling son, marched into the bathroom with him, locked the door, and proceeded to bathe him in the large tub he'd managed to scrounge, large enough for four large turtle tots.

In the course of the bath battle, Splinter (who had rinsed off much of the sewage from Raphael before putting him into the tub) had to get into the tub to finish the job, for Raphael was adamant that he would not be clean ever again!

"It's a matter of honor, Sensei!" he howled as bucket after bucket of hot water sluiced over him. But Splinter turned a deaf ear to such attempts to appeal to his sense of honor.

As his father soaped and scrubbed and rinsed him, sitting in the large, deep tub with him by now, Raphael started to calm down, and his cries of protest turned into a long talk about how Leonardo always treated him like he was stupid, "and I ain't stupid, am I Sensei? Yet Leo thinks he's smarter than me just 'cause he learned those new katas first. You don't think I'm stupid, do you Sensei?"

Of course not, my son," Splinter said, still washing the sludge and filth from Raphael, pouring clean water over him again and again in a manner that seemed to soothe the child's temper. "You are as smart as Leonardo. He just practices harder and more often; you know this. And he does not always learn the new lessons quickly. All of my sons are smart. None of you are smarter than the others."

Raph grinned at this, enjoying the moment with his father as much as the scrubbing he was receiving now on the back of his shell.

Then he frowned.

"Well, except Donnie," he said, and Splinter laughed.

"Yes, I suppose in some instances Donatello could be considered 'smarter'," he acknowledged. "How does this make you feel, that I have agreed with you?"

Raph thought hard about this for a few moments. Then he suddenly shrugged, no big deal.

"Nope, he is smarter-- but he doesn't brag about it, and he doesn't think I'm stupid."

"Good. And I do not believe that Leonardo thinks you are stupid either," Splinter, finished, turned his son to look him in the eye and to give his face a final wash. "I do not wish to ever hear you use that word again, my son, or I shall have to punish you severely!" And he had winked.

Raphael, sensing something, smiled naughtily.

"What will you do to me?"

"This!" and he ducked his son quickly in the deep tub, making sure that he also surfaced just as quickly. Raphael came up spurting water and laughing, and Splinter engaged in a brief water fight with this energetic, laughing, happy child.

As he cleaned the last of the blood from this face, he saw in it the happy child, still there in spite of the battles and triumphs and tragedies and horrors he had endured in recent years.

"My son," he whispered, reverting to the Japanese that had been his own first language-- and subsequently theirs-- "I owe you a severe punishment. And you owe me a water fight rematch."

Honeycutt kept a fresh supply of water coming, and soon they began to fear they would run out of towels before they finished. It seemed to take forever to clean the blood from them, but eventually they began to look their normal color-- though pale, too pale, from loss of blood.

Then the grim process of cleaning, sewing up, and bandaging the worst wounds took place.

Splinter moved from Raphael to Leonardo, and began to stitch the deep and vicious sword wound on his left arm. He'd always hated this part. He had always hated having to inflict more pain on his sons in the name of helping them.

"Do you remember, Leonardo, the first time I had to put stitches in you?" he softly asked, as he made the first stitch, slowly, carefully drawing the thread through the flesh of his son, slowly beginning to pull the wound closed one tiny stitch at a time. "I remembered it while I was in that place. I remembered stitching your foot. Raphael held you still, Michelangelo distracted you, and Donatello helped me. I never told you, but while you were busy with Michelangelo, I allowed Donatello to make a few stitches-- his first experience at doing it."

He continued to carefully pull the flesh together, attempting to minimize any future scarring from this wound. Leo, deeply unconscious, didn't register any pain, but Splinter was convinced that he could feel each prick of the needle, each tug of the thread through his flesh.

"I never told any of you how much I hated that first time-- or the other times I have had to do this," he whispered in Japanese, eyes on his task. "Perhaps if I had, they you and your brother would not have done this foolish, dangerous thing. Perhaps it would have saved you from this."

Mikey, overhearing his father talk like this, nearly burst out crying. He had been fighting the reactions of the past few days, the past few hours, rather successfully-- until he heard his father whispering like that to Leo in Japanese.

He'd felt guilty all the way home. Raph and Leo were so bad off, Splinter was still hurting and looking ill, yet all he could think of was Victor.

Victor had just wanted--

He shook his head, forcing this man from his mind. He needed to think only of Raph and Leo and Splinter at the moment. He would think of Victor later. He would mourn him properly later. He swore he would.

I promise, Victor, he thought. I promise.

Splinter looked up from his task. He could feel the tension in his neck and shoulders from sitting like this, hunched over the arm of his son, carefully stitching the wound. He had just tied off the thread, and was waiting for Donatello to cut it, when he glanced over at Raphael. Casey was just as carefully stitching up one of the more serious slashes in Raphael's leg, putting the finishing touches on a job well-done.

Splinter, in the back of his mind, was amazed at Casey's ability and apparent expertise in doing this. Obviously there were things in this man's past that he had never shared with any of them. Even April, judging from the amazed yet proud look on her face, seemed surprised that Casey, such a big, powerful-- and sometimes clumsy-- person, was performing this delicate task with almost the same determined precision as Master Splinter.

April, Splinter reflected, had also been more than helpful; her knowledge of first aid had, in Splinter's opinion, kept both his sons from bleeding to death on the ride home. She was like a sister to his sons; like a daughter to him. He watched her with pride and love as she and Donatello worked together, sewing up several smaller yet deep wounds on Leonardo's body.

Finally the work was finished. Don, April and Casey cleaned up the mess and disposed of it in the proper manner, then the humans headed out to various stores where they could buy more medical supplies without drawing attention to themselves-- they needed that much.

"Let us get them into bed now," Splinter said, and with the help of Leatherhead they got both turtles settled finally, side by side. Splinter felt as if he would collapse on the floor, he was suddenly so tired.

"Master Splinter," Leatherhead said softly. "You must allow me to tend to your injuries. You need them cleaned and bandaged as well. And then you need to rest. We can take care of Leonardo and Raphael for now. Please allow me to tend to you."

Splinter shook his head, eyes on the faces of both foolish sons.

"I am well for the moment, Leatherhead. I am well for the moment. I do not require anything except perhaps a nice hot cup of tea. It feels as if it has been forever since I last tasted any."

"Master Splinter," Professor Honeycutt said. "You really must allow us to treat you. You have been subjected to horrible tortures, drugged for days, and you are risking your own health by refusing treatment."

Splinter merely shook his head. He watched each face, waiting for a sign that they both still were there; that their spirits had not already gone on ahead of their bodies.

Michelangelo forced a smile onto his face.

"Aww, come on, Sensei," he tried in that coaxing tone of voice he utilized when trying to get something special out of his family, but Splinter, without breaking his gaze from the wounded ones, abruptly raised his hand in a sharp signal to end this conversation at once.

Mikey sighed, shook his head at the other two, and went to the kitchen to fix Splinter some tea.

There was an awkward silence. Splinter realized that he was being rude, and it softened his attitude.

"I cannot thank the two of you enough for coming to my aid," he said sincerely, looking at them both. "I am fortunate that my sons have formed such friendships with you both. I will do as you say in a little while, I promise. But for now..." and he glanced yet again at his two foolish sons.

"I am the fortunate one, Master Splinter," Leatherhead returned, smiling warmly. "The friendship shown to me by you and your family has helped me greatly. I owe you all much."

"I, too, owe much to your sons, Master Splinter," Honeycutt said. "They are the bravest, kindest, most interesting and most generous beings I have ever had the good fortune to meet. I was truly lucky the night they came to my world."

Splinter smiled, and bowed.

Then he concentrated his attention once again on his foolish sons.


	25. Aftermath Part B

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Well-- I was flattered into doing this. Actually, I thought that this would be two chapters long-- but it is looking like three. I want to finish up this series with these final bits, but I don't want it to be boring. Anyway, this chapter is a bit short, but it's not over. Thanks for the encouragement. Oh, and I hope you don't think I'm cheating by bringing in the Daimyo again.

TMNT are owned by Mirage. I'm too sleepy to say any more.

Aftermath Part B

Splinter looked horrible.

No one dared to tell him; his temper was short and if anyone brought it up, he would irrationally and stubbornly refuse to do as anyone suggested. He was wearing himself out watching with these two "foolish sons"; he rarely slept, and when he did, it was with one ear tuned to the slightest noise of either one. It was all they could do to get him to eat anything, much less sleep.

The first night, he was adamant about not moving from his position between the two futons, constantly watching each son, holding his own breath if one of them seemed to stop breathing, sighing out with relief as soon as he heard them exhale or inhale. He neglected his own injury, refusing any aide whatsoever-- until April forcefully took care of it, daring him to challenge her in the process.

"I am quite fine, April!" he snapped.

"And I'm Karai!" she snapped back, roughly yanking him around, so taking the rat by surprise that he couldn't react as she quickly and efficiently removed the stained bandage from his head and began cleaning the large wound on his forehead-- none too gently, judging from his sharp intake of breath and the uncharacteristically loud and sudden use of a word, in Japanese no less, that his sons had **never** ever remembered hearing him use before.

From there, she moved onto the incision that Bishop had started.

"Both this one plus the one on your forehead could use stitches, but we'll settle for these butterfly band aids," she decided, and then she moved on to deal with the various places where tubes and the I.V. drip had been inserted into his body.

When she was finished, she sat back on her heels, admiring her handiwork.

"There. I'm still not happy with that forehead wound. But I'm sure it's too late now to stitch it. Now, I know you refuse to move, but I want you to wrap up in this blanket, and drink this broth!" she ordered, and made sure he did both. She also placed a few pillows nearby. "I'll give you overnight, but you will eventually take a rest-- even if I have to drug you!"

Splinter made a mental note to fetch his own tea.

It was long days and nights of waiting and watching. Everyone took it in turns to sit with them, even Professor Honeycutt, who did his utmost to convince their worried father that "I will awaken you at once, Master Splinter-- please, I beg of you, get some rest!".

Leatherhead seemed to be the only one who didn't try to pressure Splinter into leaving the room to rest. And he had been the only one to coax Splinter into finally getting some sleep after that first night back.

"I do think that you should allow your sons to set up another bed in here, Master Splinter," he said the second day back. "You would still be nearby. They are holding their own, but what will we do if you fall ill from lack of sleep?"

"I understand everyone's concern," Splinter said softly. "But I-- I just do not-- I cannot risk--"

The large Crocodile looked into the eyes of a worried father, the eyes of a sleep-deprived, injured, highly worried father. He put one massive hand on Splinter's shoulder and gently squeezed.

"I swear to you, I will wake you at once. I will not let them pass without your being there for them. I give you my word."

He was very attentive and gentle, and persuasive to the point that Splinter, with a sigh that he had tried to hide, wrapped himself tightly in the blanket that April had forced on him the night before, and lay down on the floor, head on one of the pillows put there by April. He curled up on his side, and was out before he could worry about anything.

Granted he only slept for a few hours, but it was a start.

Leatherhead made sure no one disturbed him, and kept a close eye on both turtles.

He was a great help when Raph, with a sudden nightmare movement, had ripped the stitches in his leg. He had immediately and with great delicacy repaired the damage before Splinter, just waking up from this first sleep, could attempt it or Don could be sent for.

But in spite of the constant attention, in spite of the care with which they'd been doctored, things were not going well. Within twenty-four hours both of them had developed infections.

"I don't know," Don worried to Honeycutt and Splinter. "I know that we cleaned every wound and sterilized every tool. What if Bishop managed to introduce some mutated germ or something into them?"

"Bio-weapons?" Honeycutt mused. "Somehow I think even he would have refrained from that, Donatello. Those types of weapons are so hard to control-- the least scratch, and you're the victim instead of the victor. I'm sure these are a natural infection, but to be safe, let us take some blood samples."

Both were feverish.

Raph was comatose from his injuries, and his plastron had a large gash in it that Splinter worried would never heal. He rarely moved except for sudden and brief jerks that indicated he was having some sort of nightmare. Fortunately he didn't rip open any more stitches, but it set everyone on edge when he would suddenly twitch like that, then lay perfectly still.

And he rarely reacted to any voice-- except Michelangelo's, for some reason.

"Come on, Raphy boy-- wake up long enough to drink this for me," he would say, as Don or Casey supported his limp form, and Raph would rally enough to swallow whatever Mike was trying to give him.

But other than that, he rarely moved, or noticed who was in the room with him. Except for Mikey.

Leo wasn't much better, dream-fighting and reliving the battle in his delirium.

"Raph, behind you! Look out!" another battle began, and Splinter once again had to keep close, to prevent him, too, from ripping stitches. He would grow so restless, shouting out challenges to Bishop, swearing that he would avenge his family, that Splinter would have to place his hand on his forehead and whisper in his ear the "banishment" he had made up all those years ago, to calm frightened turtle tots after horrible nightmares. This would help Leo calm down for a time-- until the fever started up another dream-battle.

Splinter, Don and April feared for Leo's left arm, badly damaged and infected to the point of swelling. Yet there was no trace of gangrene-- yet.

Late on the fourth night, Michelangelo came bursting into Splinter's room.

"Sensei! The Daimyo-- he's here!"

Before Splinter could go out, the Daimyo had entered.

"Honored friend, I came to see why you didn't come to my son's celebration as planned. I began to fear-- honored friend! What has happened?"

A brief explanation, and before Splinter could finish, the Daimyo had summoned his Master Healer and his assistants. A brief examination, an order for the proper medications, and the Master Healer took over, commending Splinter on the stitches, and ordering that all wounds must be washed at once with a mixture of green tea and a special medicine.

Splinter found himself watching rather than helping, as the Master Healer and his assistants worked for many hours to help his "foolish sons."

"I blame myself, my friend," the Daimyo said, as they watched the work of the Master Healer, while Don and Mikey brought them tea and other refreshments. "I should have insisted that you let me send you directly home that day, instead of allowing you to return by your usual route. After all you told me of your vision, and of this being, and then to have fallen into his grasp... I blame myself, my friend."

"No, noble Daimyo," Splinter replied. "It was fate. Just like this apparently was fate. My foolish sons were fated to do this deed."

He gazed at the Master Healer and his assistants again, and felt such gratitude he could barely articulate it to the Daimyo. A great weight had been lifted from his soul. He thanked him with tears streaming down his face, bowing many times. But the Daimyo stopped him from doing more, and just sat with him, and comforted him, father to father.

"There is no need, my honored friend," the Daimyo said. "Between us, there is no need."

The attentions of the Master Healer and his assistants was the turning point.

With the Master Healer's special ability to merge with another's spirit, he finally brought Raphael out of his comatose state to full waking consciousness.

Raph's eyes, still feverish, focused on the face of his father. Recognition. And concern.

"Mikey. Is Mikey all right? Is he safe?" he faintly managed to ask.

"Yes, my son, your brother is safe," Splinter assured him with a relieved smile. "He is safe, and so are you. Go to sleep, my son."

"Bishop-- Bishop was hurtin' him, Sensei. Makin' him have nightmares. He was hurtin' you both."

"You are safe now. We are all safe," he replied, stroking his son's forehead soothingly.

"I tried to stop him," he mumbled, voice hoarse barely audible.

"Yes, my son. You did stop him. You saved your brother. Rest now. Go to sleep, Raphael. Go to sleep my son."

"Gladly."

With this special gift of reaching into another's mind, he calmed Leonardo's continued battles, and gave him the peace he needed to open his eyes on the real world and see his family safe.

"Don... Donnie... did you get Sensei home like I... like I told you?" he mumbled hoarsely, eyes unfocused, but opened.

"Yes, Leo, we got him out okay," Don assured him, relieved to hear his brother's normal voice after so many days of fevered shoutings. "Remember? We're all at home now."

"Get him home. You got him home. We had to do something. Raph and I had to do something. But you got him home?"

"Yes, Leo," Don tried again. "We got him home safe and sound. We are all at home. We're in Sensei's room. You and Raph, Mikey, Sensei-- we're all here."

Leo stared at his brother for a few seconds, processing this.

"Sensei's room?"

"Yes, Leo."

"Ah. I thought this place looked familiar."

Raph, only lightly asleep, woke up at the sound of Leo talking. He turned his head on his pillow and focused on his brother.

"Leo, you all right?" Raph's voice, weak but welcome, reached Leo's ear.

Leo turned his head to look at him and managed to smile at Raph.

"I've had worse. You?"

"Not bad-- a hell of a lot better than Bishop."

To the shock of everyone present, they both laughed.

It was weak and wheezy and didn't last long, but it was laughter.

Then they each reached out a hand across the small space that separated their beds, and attempted to high-three each other.

Their hands barely touched, then they both fell asleep, looking as if they were holding on to each other.

Splinter shook his head, the first smile on his lips in days.

"Foolish sons."


	26. Aftermath Part C

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Woah! This is a long one, and it is NOT the end yet! TMNT are owned by Mirage. I need a Diet Coke!

Aftermath Part C

"Aww, Sensei," Raph weakly protested, though he couldn't refuse it. "That stuff tastes worse than Leo's cooking."

Splinter looked sternly at his son, being supported by Michelangelo, and insistently held the bowl up to his injured son's mouth. Raph, in spite of the taste and his reluctance, swallowed with great difficulty the first of three bowls of medicines that were to start his day.

Leo tried to pretend he was still asleep, but Splinter made Donatello hold his mouth open with one hand, and Leo had to swallow in self defense.

He had briefly toyed with the idea of pretending to choke, but knew that Sensei would probably just add to his coming punishment if he were to make such a lame attempt.

"Man," Raph barely managed to get out, voice hindered by the gagging reflex in his throat and the indescribable bitter taste on his tongue, as the second and then third bowls of medicines swiftly followed.

"Just think, Bro," Mikey couldn't help saying, as he supported his brother firmly yet gently. "You only have to take that stuff four more times today!"

"Mikey, I swear," Raph barely whispered, too weak to growl in his usual tone of voice, too weak to even threaten his little brother properly.

Leo was no better off. He tried to concentrate on some sort of distraction throughout the entire ordeal, tried to remember that this was for his own good, that Sensei loved him and wanted him better--but no matter what he thought of, his mind kept coming back to the fact that each medicine looked and smelled like something from the sewers, and probably tasted just as bad.

"There, now," Don grinned in false enthusiasm. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Leo loved his brother, but sincerely wished that he'd had the energy at that moment to smack him one in the head.

Their ordeal wasn't over; the two were required by their father to each drink a glass of orange juice, a cup of tea, and a very small bowl of broth.

"Please, Sensei," Leo managed finally to work his voice-- he'd been having trouble convincing his vocal chords that the slimy, bitter concoction in the last bowl had truly been medicine, not some raw sewer sludge that had come to kill them while they slept-- "could we skip the broth this time? I-- I'm not hungry right now!"

"You must each have something in your stomachs to aid the medicines," Splinter said in the voice he used in the dojo. Leo briefly wondered where his loving father had gone to, as he allowed Don to pour the required liquids into him. He and Raph both were so weak they couldn't lift a hand to assist in their own feeding. He felt like a helpless baby.

It was all they could do to keep from throwing it all up again, but each harbored in his thoughts the belief that Splinter was serious when he had said that first time, "If you do throw up, then you will get it again. You must have these medicines if you are to heal."

And so another day began, as it had since they first woke up from their injuries.

In spite of their reluctance at taking the medicines and their current liquid diets, Raph and Leo **were** slowly improving. Since that night when the Daimyo had offered the services of his Master Healer, both turtles were slowly but surely beginning to heal.

With the potent (yet highly unpalatable) medicines of the Master Healer, their infections were quickly clearing up. Their blood slowly was being replenished. Their wounds were beginning to heal. Their fevers finally broke, and they began to sleep peacefully.

Day after day and night after night they slowly grew stronger, staying awake and in the real world, resting, doing what they were told, compliant to every demand, request, or suggestion-- well, except where the medicines were concerned-- they were so damn nasty!

Heck-- even with that part of the ordeal, they managed to keep their sense of humors and their good spirits.

"It's like liquid punishment," Raph managed to whisper to Leo one evening, when Sensei was distracted.

Leo nodded, eyes on their father, who appeared to have a somewhat short temper when it came to the medicines.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'd rather do flips and write essays."

"At the same time," Raph added, and they both earned a sharp look suddenly from Splinter as they began to laugh.

Though they were dependent on everyone for the least little thing, they were able to joke a bit with their brothers and friends.

"Dude, you totally ruined my 'chuk," Mikey chided Raphael one night, as he helped his brother eat some broth.

"Sorry, Mikey-- Bishop's head got in my way-- several times," he grinned darkly; then, seeing the look Splinter was giving him, he finished what he could of the broth and went back to sleep.

"Leo, I suppose you can explain why my work area was missing nearly all of my trackers," Don said, changing the massive bandage on Leo's arm. "And why my current projects were completely ruined in the process?"

"Yeah, I suppose I could," Leo nodded in affirmation. "But honestly, Don, I feel too tired to go into detail right now. Besides, I'm sure nothing important was ruined, right?"

Though their bodies were still weak, their spirits were surprisingly high and strong, and they could be found laughing at things the others did not see the humor in.

"Hey, Raph, I'll bet that I have more stitches than you."

"You wish, sword boy. I counted 'em up while you were asleep, and I know for a fact that I have at least seventeen more than you."

"You never were good at math, hothead. Besides, Casey stitched you, and he can't count, either."

"I can count how many ways I'm gonna kick your shell, Leo-NERD-o!"

"Enough!" Splinter's voice would seemingly come from no where-- and the two of them, as weak as they were, would be reduced to helpless laughter.

**Many** times Master Splinter would sternly admonish them that they were supposed to be resting quietly when a burst of laughter would erupt from the room for no apparent reason, or at times when everyone thought they should be asleep.

The stronger they grew, the more they noticed that Sensei was-- well, **angry** with them. He had been with them every waking hour it seemed, and they recalled that at first the attention was very warm and fatherly. But each noticed as they got a little better every day, that their father was just a little more-- well, they didn't want to say "harsh", but certainly not as-- well, **tender**-- as he had first been.

Slowly, though, they did grow stronger, though they were unable to go anywhere on their own-- trips to the bathroom, for example, required **two** helpers to support them each in walking, and at **least** one observer during the actual process!

"Aww, gee, Sensei," Raph complained, trying to not notice that he was being watched while he performed a necessary function. "Do we hafta have spotters for this? It ain't exactly weight lifting."

"Yes, it is a humiliating experience, is it not?" Splinter sternly replied, arms crossed. "However, you and your brother are hardly in a position to complain about it, are you?"

The days passed, and though still unable to fend for themselves, the two were slowly but steadily getting better.

Splinter, also, had been healing-- his sons didn't know it, but he was required to take two of the same medicines as them, though only twice a day, and not five times as they had to. He understood their reluctance, but as the days had passed, and he'd been able to reflect more and more on their actions of that night-- indeed, of the past months-- he felt no pity for them.

In fact, he found that more and more he was having to keep his irrational anger at his sons in check. Much meditation had taken place over the past handful of days, as their strength slowly returned to them.

Much doubt and questioning-- and growing fear-- had taken place during the quiet hours when both sons were sleeping, when he was alone with his memories of what they had been and the realities of what they had done.

It was an issue that, given what kind of man Bishop had been, would have surprised even his other sons. But he had been harboring a secret fear, a fear that was even stronger than the anger he felt at their suicidal behavior.

Had they **murdered** Bishop? Not met him in honorable battle, but killed him in cold blood?

Had he failed his sons?

"What is your explanation?" Splinter asked them with no preamble one night, roughly two weeks later, when both were awake and they were just the three of them together. He had waited until the others had either gone to bed or gone home, as well as for Leonardo and Raphael to be stronger, to address this issue.

They were sitting up on their futons, propped up on pillows against the wall, well-covered. They had just finished the obligatory green tea and broth Sensei insisted they take after their final medicines of the night before bedtime, and were each desperately wishing for something to wash away the combined nauseating aftertaste of the three medicines, green tea, and chicken broth.

At this long-expected yet dreaded question, they exchanged looks. Then to the puzzlement of their Sensei they played a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors.

Leo lost.

Then Leo spoke.

"What do you mean, Sensei?"

"Leonardo! I believe you both owe me an explanation! Why did you go after Bishop? Why did both of you go after this man without your brothers?"

"Sorry, Sensei," Leo smiled briefly, bowing from his sitting position and almost falling over, which took the stern look from Splinter's face and he rushed to steady him. He sat between the two, facing them, looking old.

Leo looked at his father, and sighed. This was going to be hard, he knew it. But he wasn't a kid anymore (indeed, Raph had always insisted that he'd never been a kid in the first place). Leo realized he was smiling at this brief thought, and, registering Splinter's puzzled as well as increasingly angry observation of his smile, quickly focused on the short version.

"Raph and I agreed that this was what we had to do," Leo said simply. "We decided the first night back."

Splinter looked at them, puzzled.

"The first night back?" he asked, confused.

"From the Triceraton mother ship," Leo explained, as if it were a surprise to him that Splinter had forgotten such an important event in their lives. "That first night back, Raph and I-- well, we talked things over, and we came to an agreement. We were going to take care of Bishop one way or another. And over the past months, when we've had the chance, we've been searching for any news or information on where this guy might be."

"I don't understand," Splinter said slowly. "Granted, recent events have shown us just how dangerous this man was, but for you to decide back then..."

"We had to," Leo said simply. "That man was a serious, dangerous, sadistic threat to us. You've always told me it's my responsibility to protect this family. After that first encounter with Agent Bishop, I knew I had to protect this family, no matter what the cost. Raph agreed with me. We had to protect this family from people like him."

"But... but **why** did you not discuss these concerns with **me**, or with your brothers?" Splinter asked, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice-- but both of them could tell that he **was** hurt.

"We decided that this was **our** responsibility," Raph said, as Leo reached for a glass of water. "Don and Mike had been through too much; Don with those Triceratons almost frying his brain, and Mike with that lunatic Bishop!"

"We all were in danger from that man, but Raph and I agreed that we would be the ones to take care of him," Leo continued. "But we kept missing our opportunities to do so. And when he grabbed you that first time, we knew more than ever that we needed to end it!"

"But we failed. We blew it big time. Then that stuff happened with the Shredder, and he got put on hold again," Raph said. "And then all the stuff afterwards-- but we couldn't give up, Sensei. You know how Mikey was, all them nightmares! That bastard did something to Mikey that first time! He did something to him, and I--- I mean, we, missed it. We failed Mikey." Raph's voice, loud and strident with justification, had suddenly faded into a hoarse whisper of guilt and self-blame.

"When he took you this last time," Leo said, forcing himself to speak normally though the emotions of that night's discovery were heavy in his memory, "Raph and I swore that we would do everything in our power to end him once and for all, even if we got you back safe. That's why we left you to Don and Mike."

"It's true, when we first thought about huntin' Bishop down and offin' him, it was not the way you'd want us to," Raph said. They both knew what Splinter feared. "It's true-- we had thought about doin' it that way-- assassination, murder, whatever you want to call it. But we didn't."

"We did search for information, for anything," Leo continued the story. "But we were also very much concerned with Shredder. And when Bishop was suddenly involved with what was going down there--"

They looked at each other, sensing that they really weren't doing a convincing job of explaining why they'd not confided in their family.

They were right.

"My sons," Splinter finally spoke, looking at them with a mixture of disappointment, sorrow, and slight anger. "My sons, I have stressed over the years the need for honor, the need for teamwork-- the need for family. You two made decisions that should have been addressed by all concerned. I know you say that you did it to protect this family, but--"

"But we didn't," Leo cut him off, feeling guilt at that aspect of it. Unexpected tears were stinging his eyes, as he registered his father's disapproval. "We did it for ourselves-- that's what you think. Maybe you're right. We were wrong to exclude Don and Mike. We just wanted to protect them. And we were wrong to exclude you all this time. It just seemed the right thing to do! It just seemed-- we were wrong, but it's done. And," he got control of his voice that had begun to crack, and sat up straighter, looking at his father, "And still, we're glad we left them out of it. We're glad we ended it."

"We're not sorry, Sensei," Raph adds. "We are glad we did it this way, and that we finished Bishop."

"That's right. Honor demanded his death, and we should have worked together as a family-- but I am not ashamed to say that I am glad we did it like this. I'm sorry it disappoints you, Sensei, but I am not repentant."

"Neither am I, Sensei," Raph affirmed just as sincerely as Leo.

"Did you murder him?"

Both sons sat there, stunned at the words.

Both of them now saw-- fear-- in their father's eyes.

For a few minutes, neither could speak, too shocked by their father's question; by his belief--

"Sensei, I swear to you, on my honor and my family," Raphael suddenly said, voice shaking with emotion. "I swear to you, honored Master, that we did not strike him while he was down! We met him in combat, and killed him in combat!"

Splinter closed his eyes-- the image of Bishop's body, lying before them, hacked into several pieces, brains visible through his skull--

"He was always on his feet when we attacked him," Leonardo hoarsely whispered. He was overcome with the memory of that final battle-- as well as the fearful look on his father's face as he had asked them that difficult, horrible question. "He was always on his feet, and he was always armed. He took the severest of wounds, and would fall, and we would think he was dead, and then he would rise up again, and again, and again..."

"It was like somethin' outta the horror movies," Raphael, choking back tears of memory on that gruesome fight. "I struck him several times with the 'chuk, and when I heard the sickening crunch-- when I could see brains-- I was sure that he was finished! He fell to the floor, and we were sure he was finished!"

"Then he grabbed one of the swords on the floor," Leo continued, eyes closed, seeing it again. "He grabbed one of the swords-- we thought it was reflex action-- and he was up and slashed Raph across the plastron before I could do anything. I think I severed his arm at the shoulder-- the arm without the weapon, the arm where I'd already take his hand, it happened so fast! That's when he caught me across my own arm."

"I hit him again and again," Raph spoke, though Splinter had a hard time understanding him at first, his voice was strained with the story. "I hit him once more, I ran my sai into his heart-- Leo brought his sword down once more, trying to sever his head, but I don't think he did--"

"He finally died," Leo concluded in a whisper, and now both had tears running down their faces. "He finally died, and it was over. And we're both glad! We are not sorry!"

Splinter sat there, thinking of all that had happened in the past months, of all that they had said of this most terrible of battles. He sat there, thinking of all their justifications to their actions.

Then he looked at the faces of his sons, wet with tears, eyes closed against the memory-- and thought of the horrors they had endured in those final minutes with Bishop. It had not been a clean death. But it had not been murder.

Still...

"It is not the way of the warrior--" Splinter began, but both cut him off.

"We don't revel in his death, Sensei, or the deaths of those 'super-soldiers'," Leo said, opening his eyes to his father, roughly wiping his face with his good arm. "We aren't glad for the deaths of those others we fought who stood between us and our goal. But we **cannot** feel remorse for Bishop's death! He was a dangerous, sadistic, evil man who only cared if he succeeded, no matter who was killed in the process! He claimed to be saving humanity, while at the same time destroying it! I am not sorry that we killed him!"

Then Leonardo and Raphael looked at each other again, as if reading each other's thoughts, and to the protests of Splinter, they slowly and painfully got into kneeling positions and bowed to their Sensei.

"Forgive us, Honored Master, for not feeling remorse," Leo said. "Forgive us for leaving our family out of our plans. Forgive us for not confiding in you. We have let you down. We are sorry."

"But we are not sorry for the outcome," Raphael added. "We're not sorry that we took on Bishop or that he is dead! We are only sorry that you are disappointed in us. We willingly accept our punishment, and hope to earn your favor once more. Forgive us, Honored Master."

Splinter sighed deeply, and looked even older. He sat there, looking at these wounded, weak-- yet strong-- warriors bowing in submission to him, begging for forgiveness for protecting the family by excluding it, waiting his judgment and punishment.

He still didn't know what to think about their behavior, but he was wise enough to know that, though they had acted without thought or regard for his lessons-- in the end they had acted honorably. They had acted for the family, in spite of it all.

He still wasn't happy that they'd gone after him. But there would be time to reprimand them about that later. Much later, he thought, looking at these two who were still bowing, yet now both shaking from the effort to maintain the positions-- after all, they were still weak.

He helped each one back into a sitting position, and then encouraged both to lay down as it was bedtime. He carefully covered each one, and then he took Leo's hand in one of his, and Raph's in his other, and looked at them with tears in his eyes.

"You have not let me down. You could never disappoint me. You do not need my forgiveness. I love you, my foolish sons. My ninja."

Then he kissed each one on the forehead, got up, and left the room.

Raph and Leo stared at each other, slightly puzzled. This had not been what they expected.

"I guess this means we're not grounded," Leo said after a few minutes.

"I guess you're right, bro. Though for a minute, I thought he might just spank his 'foolish sons'."

"Yeah, me, too. Unless he's waiting until we're both well."

"I guess we'd better watch our backs in the future," Raph said seriously.

"Or rather, our backsides," Leo amended.

They looked at each other again.

Then they burst out laughing.

"Get to sleep!" commanded their father from the next room, temper short with weariness.

They grinned at his tone of voice, then went to sleep.

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A/N: No! It's not over! They still have to reconcile with Don and Mikey! And they have one more goal: to use the bathroom without "minders"!


	27. Aftermath Part D

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ONLY one more after this! Thanks Llama and Splinter and others! Thanks Machias! Thanks everyone!

TMNT is owned by Mirage-- HEY! I missed the new theme song! I hear it is funny!

Aftermath-- Part D

Don looked at Master Splinter, who was sitting at the kitchen table, his chin resting in his left hand, his right lying across a notebook, pen loosely grasped, a cup of tea untouched and cooling in front of him. His eyes were closed, and Don knew it wasn't because he was meditating or trying to think of what to write. He had dozed off. Again.

"Master Splinter?" Don gently placed a hand on his father's shoulder and gave him a little shake.

"Wh-- does one of your brothers need something?" Splinter, startled, began to get up to head to the bedroom where Leonardo and Raphael were still recuperating.

"No, Sensei," Don replied, keeping his father seated. Then he sat next to him, eyeing the list on the table. Splinter had titled it **Reasons for Your Punishment**. So far he'd reached number eleven. "You've thought of eleven reasons why Leo and Raph need punishment?"

"I have thought of twenty-seven reasons, my son," Splinter said, an edge in his voice that seemed almost natural lately whenever speaking of his two foolish sons and future parental retribution. "I have narrowed it down to eleven-- I hope."

Don was itching to get a better look at the list-- in fact, he was wondering if Sensei would take suggestions. He wanted a little brotherly retribution on the two who had left him and Mikey out of the final battle with Bishop. But he kept quiet about it for now. He had a mission, and he needed to succeed.

"Sensei, you really need to get some rest," he began, but Splinter, with an "I had forgotten that one!" had picked up the pen and added reason number twelve to his list. "Sensei! You're not listening to me!"

Splinter looked up from his list and at his son, slightly surprised that he was there.

"What is it, Donatello? Do your brothers require something?"

Don took a breath; he also took hold of Splinter's hand so he couldn't write anymore.

"Sensei. You need to get some real sleep. You have been running yourself crazy with those two. I know," he said quickly, as Splinter appeared ready to protest, "I know, you say you are getting sleep. But Sensei, you're not really getting **restful** sleep. You sleep in the room with the guys, and I know that every time one of them sneezes you are up, fussing over them."

"Your brothers still require much attention," Splinter defended his actions. "I do not 'fuss over them'. And I am getting enough sleep."

"You keep falling asleep at the table," Don pointed out. "You fell asleep last night in the middle of dinner. Even with all the noise Mikey was making."

Splinter gazed back at his list as Donatello spoke.

"Yes," he said, and Don smiled in relief. "Yes, that is another good reason." And he added reason number thirteen.

Don sagged in momentary defeat-- then rallied his strength, and took the pen and notebook away from his startled father.

"Look. I know that it looked like we'd brought them home to die," he said plainly, causing his father to cringe slightly at the words. "But we were lucky, and they are going to survive. They have a long way to go, and they are still very weak. But they are doing better! You, on the other hand, are ruining your health. You were in pretty bad shape yourself, and even though your wounds are healing quickly, you're still not one hundred percent. What would happen if you collapsed on us?"

Splinter sighed, looking into the eyes of this most persistent of sons. It was true-- he had been feeling tired, and he was having trouble concentrating, as well as staying awake.

"You are right," he admitted. "I wish to sleep in the same room with them because we so nearly lost them. And you are also right about my waking up. I do still wake up at the least noise they make. And also when there is **no** noise. Sometimes I wake up convinced that one of them has stopped breathing, and I sit there, staring at them until I am reassured that they are still with me. You are right, my son. I am tired."

"Good! Mikey and I have fixed up Leo's bed for you, Sensei," Don grinned, relief washing over him, relief mixed with a certain amount of pride at having convinced his father of the need to get some real sleep. "It's all ready for you. Don't worry about Leo and Raph-- please! Come on upstairs and get some sleep!"

So Splinter allowed his son to escort him up to Leonardo's room where Mikey was waiting, ready to help tuck Sensei in.

"I've put one of Leo's CDs in the player, Sensei," Mikey smiled, as his father gratefully got into the bed. "It's really nice, soothing traditional Japanese stuff, the one Leo uses for meditation."

He hit the play button-- and deafened everyone in the room with a sudden blast of Rob Zombie. Mikey quickly shut off the music, and grinned sheepishly.

"Uh, sorry about that. I forgot that I put one of Raph's CDs in that case as a joke to Leo."

"The music is a considerate thought," Splinter carefully said, ears still hurting slightly. "But not needed."

"Oh. Well, how 'bout I read to you?"

"He's here to go to sleep, not be entertained, shell for brains!" Don hit Mikey in the head, and they left Sensei to get some much needed sleep.

Don went to his lab for a short time, but his mind was on the coming project. He was glad that he'd finally convinced Splinter to get some rest upstairs away from the guys. They would be relieved as well-- not that Don was in the mood at the moment to make **their** lives easier by providing them with a long break from what Raph termed as "Sensei's Mother Hen mode."

He wandered into the kitchen, where Mikey was busy studying Splinter's list. He held the pen poised to write, but his face, crinkled in thought, tongue slightly sticking out of his mouth, indicated to Don that he was having trouble deciding what to write.

"What are you doing?" he asked the needless question. Mikey looked up, still puzzled.

"Well, I was gonna add a few more reasons for why those two need to be punished," he admitted. "But looking at this, I don't think I can improve on it."

Don looked as well; a small whistle of surprise escaped him. Mikey nodded wisely.

"I see you found number seven."

Don merely shook his head at the depths of anger his father was still feeling, all expressed in these reasons for why Leo and Raph deserved punishment.

"Oh, well, chances are he'll just pick one and let them have it good," Don said, tossing the notebook back on the table and going to check briefly with Leo and Raph to see if they needed anything. Then he and Mikey sat in the kitchen, planning.

They waited about three hours, to be sure Splinter was really sleeping and wouldn't hear them. They wanted to be able to talk to Leo and Raph without parental interference. This was something the two younger brothers had been discussing more and more as the danger had passed and the older ones had begun to heal.

Sensei, it seemed, wasn't the only one who had felt a sort of anger growing in recent days.

Don checked quietly on Splinter; he was definitely in deep sleep, and he smiled at the rat, momentarily forgetting his mission.

Then he and Mikey marched into Sensei's room where Leo and Raph had been since they had brought them home that horrible night, more dead than alive.

They were playing Rock-Paper-Scissors to decide who was going to have to crawl over to where the ball they'd been tossing back and forth in their boredom had landed. Raph had lost, and wasn't looking forward to moving-- everything still hurt.

"Yo, Mikey!" Raph grinned in relief when they came in. "Toss us the ball, will ya?"

But Mike walked past it, as he and Don came up to the brothers and sat on the floor between the futons. Leo and Raph could see that something was on their minds.

"You guys need anything?" Don started out, but they shook their heads, wondering what the problem was.

"Good, we have a fight to pick with you," Mike began.

"Why did you guys freeze us out of your fight with Bishop?" Don asked.

Raph and Leo exchanged amused looks.

"Are you kidding? I'd of freezed out Leo if I could have," Raph grinned.

"I was trying to think of ways to freeze Raph out," Leo smiled, and they hi-threed each other, even though the act caused Leo to grimace in pain-- his left arm was far from healed.

"We're serious!" Don sharply interrupted their fun. The tone of his voice, the emotion behind those two words, stunned Raph and Leo into silence. "Since when are we babies that need protecting? Since when are we unable to fight? I thought we were brothers! I thought we were a team! I thought we were **family**!"

Leo and Raph both looked as if Don's words had physically slapped them in the face. They had heard Don angry before-- but this! This was beyond anger. This was-- well, this was injury!

"Is it because you don't think Don and I can be bloodthirsty?" Mike took his turn, and his tone of voice matched Don's in hurt and anger. "Or do you look down on us because we don't have **blades**?"

The words were rough. The emotion behind them was stunning!

Raph and Leo were completely shocked by the depth of anger in their brothers. They couldn't remember ever seeing either brother so upset, so hurt-- so full of accusation. For a few seconds they couldn't speak.

"No! No! No, we **don't** look down on you!" Raph finally protested sincerely, trying to physically reach the nearest brother and nearly falling in the attempt. Mike kept him from hitting the floor, but refused to let Raph comfort him with a touch-- he propped up his brother, but moved out of range of the brotherly hand at once.

"We **are** brothers! We **are** a team! We **are** a family!" Leo was saying soothingly at the same time, desperately trying to reach Don with words if not a touch-- but Don, like Mike, remained out of reach.

"You couldn't prove it by us!" Don angrily snapped, frowning. "All **we **get is an order to take care of Splinter while **you** and** Raph** go off to 'take care of some unfinished business'."

"You didn't even consider us!" Mike added, and they couldn't remember seeing him this hurt or angry. "You didn't even give us a chance to help, to even the score! You know, **I** had some 'unfinished business' with old Bishop **myself**, yet you didn't give me the chance to take care of it. ** I** would have liked to avenge **Victor**! **I** would have liked to avenged **Splinter MYSELF**!"

Leo sighed desperately, and looked at his upset brothers.

"Look," he tried. "We had a good reason--"

"Spare us the 'Fearless Leader' routine, Leo!" Don said sharply, and even Raph winced at the words, as well as the sentiment behind them. "When we first had to go topside-- when the mousers destroyed our old home, and we had our first real fights-- we were a **team**! We faced the dangers together, and we were successful!"

"True, but---" Leo tried again, but Donatello was not to be stopped. He'd had countless nights to practice this speech, and Leo was not going to prevent him from delivering it.

"But nothing! We faced the Shredder with you when he tried to convince you to join him!" Don was relentless. "We fought the overwhelming attack of Shredder and his group that time they nearly killed you! We survived that prison on the triceraton home world, we fought as an inseparable team in the arena-- we took on Shredder and agreed-- AGREED, Leo-- to **end** our **lives** **together** in order to stop him!"

Don's face and voice were a perfect match in anger and hurt. Leo and Raph were unable to respond to the sheer force of their brother's hurt.

"We did all of this-- as brothers," he finished, tears present, but voice still strong. "We did it **all** as **brothers**. And you cut us out of this!"

Leo looked helplessly at Raph, who was trying not to let the tears that had come to his eyes escape. Raph barely shook his head sadly-- he had no words to support Leo or appease Don.

Leo looked again at Don, and tried again.

"Don, you're right-- you're right, we did all that and more. We've done more than that as brothers; as a family. But this was different--"

"How the hell was it different?" Mikey nearly shouted, and they were faced with identical expressions of anger and injured hearts. "How was it different from the prison? From the arena? From Shredder's attack? And Leo, in case you forgot, Don and me **supported** you when you went **against** Sensei during that whole gang war thing after they thought Shredder was dead! **You** took off from the family-- and the **family** supported you-- cause Raph and Sensei showed up and helped out at the last minute! We've done everything as a family-- until the night you and Raph decided to kill Bishop!"

"Look!" Leo shouted suddenly-- he'd had enough. "When we all came home that night from the Triceraton mother ship-- well, Raph and I-- we had--"

"Nightmares," Don finished. "We all did. Why should that make you cut us from your lives?"

"Naw, Don!" Raph exclaimed, trying desperately to soothe his brother. "We **never** cut you from our lives! Please, Don, listen to Leo! Come on, Bro. Please!"

"Look-- my dream was that I escaped and got to you just as Bishop killed you," Leo said, with more force than he intended. "I was too late---"

"And I dreamed he started on me after killing Mikey," Raph continued, anger at the memory of the dream growing.

"We knew you guys had been through too much," Leo said, trying to sound rational, but everyone could tell that emotions were still running high. "I mean, you had been through that mind probe, and what with the death of the Fugitoid--"

"Call him 'Professor Honeycutt'!" Don forcefully interrupted.

"--Professor Honeycutt," Leo said, looking at his brother with understanding, "and Bishop taking sadistic delight in tormenting Mikey just before-- just before--"

"Nobody torments Mikey but me!" Raph burst out, angry tears on his face. "Nobody! Especially that-- that--"

"We were all his prisoners that night!" Don nearly shouted. "We were all in the same boat! We would have gone out together! Why did you leave us out that night with Bishop?"

"Because I couldn't do anything that first time!" Leo shouted back. "I couldn't do anything!" And now he was crying-- crying angry tears, angry tears at the dead Bishop! "Who the hell did that bastard decide to start with that night, Don? Do you remember? You remember everything else! He decided to start with Mikey! With MIKEY!"

Raph now reached across the narrow gap that separated their futons, and managed to grab hold of Leo's injured arm, and the squeeze of this brother's hand anchored Leo, and kept him from screaming.

"He started with Mikey," Leo continued, drawing strength from Raph. "Not me! Not the 'fearless leader'! Do you KNOW how many times I've had to hear Splinter tell me that I am responsible for all of you? To protect my brothers? To protect my family? And that night I couldn't protect any of you! I couldn't! Why did he pick out Mikey first? Because he KNEW that it would cause the most anguish! He was a sadistic evil bastard, he was the epitome of evil, he was worse than Shredder-- and I had to kill him! I had to protect you all from him!"

He faced Raph now, and sighed. The emotional outburst tired him out worse than that horrible deadly fight with Bishop, but he kept on going, just like that night, he kept on going-- and his brother was the one who made it possible-- just like that night--

"I know-- why did Raph and I do it together, and leave you two out," Leo continued, a bit calmer. Raph gave Leo a supporting grin, a supporting squeeze of the hand on his injured arm. "Because Raph understands. Raph understands the need for cold-blooded vengeance-- for commitment to bloodshed-- for doing what we have to do to protect this family."

"And we don't?" Don shouted.

"Yes, you do," Raph replied mildly, and the soft response stunned everyone in the room more than any outburst would have. "Yes, you both understand this all too much. But this **was** different. I can't explain how, but this was different than all the other times combined. **This** was different. This was cold-blooded planning. This was our responsibility."

And he looked at Leo again, and the two exchanged understanding looks.

"But Leo, that doesn't explain why you cut us out," Don was persistent. "You guys made this decision months ago. Why couldn't you include us? You had plenty of chances to. Even at that moment, when we found Splinter, why couldn't you include us?"

"We were committed to ending this in blood," Leo said. "We knew from the first that we would end this one way or the other in lots of blood. Don, you're a great ninja, a great brother-- and a great inventor! We owe much of our comfort and safety to your work over the years. But you like to avoid problems sometimes-- talk things out. I know from experience that in the heat of battle you are deadly. But can you honestly sit there and tell me that you would have committed to a **future** bloodbath?"

"You didn't even give me a chance," Don replied. "You knew what I went through when we were separated by that time scepter; you knew the 'future' I was sent to. And you still didn't give me a chance."

"You're right," Leo nodded. "We didn't. And that is my fault. I made the decision to protect you-- **because** of what you'd gone through in that future. It was my fault. I know this."

Then he looked at his youngest brother.

"And Mikey-- we didn't want Splinter to know what we were planning," Leo continued, "and you can be a bit-- transparent--"

"You have a big mouth, Bro," Raph said. "You can't keep a secret to save your life-- and this was that type of secret. Plus, those nightmares-- Mikey, when we thought we'd lost you that night when we ran into Bishop and the Slayer-- well, you were so injured, so sick-- and I told Leo that there was no way I wanted you involved in the final battle, no matter how great a fighter you are. Do you know how worried Splinter was about you?"

"Do you know how worried Splinter's been about you?" Mike returned mildly, and the guilt that hit them was made worse by his calm reply than if he'd shouted at them.

"Look-- we were overprotective," Leo admitted. "That night we really felt that it was our job to take care of Bishop. You're right, we had plenty of chances to include you. But we thought we'd just wait until we'd found him. All through the stuff that's been happening these months, Raph and I have been looking for information or news about Bishop."

"Yeah, and we were having no luck, so whenever we'd think we should really tell you guys our plans, we'd decide to wait until we had some hard facts to go on," Raph said. "And whenever we came up on something new, we'd wonder if it would lead to Bishop-- yet it always turned out to lead to Shredder."

"Even when we encountered Bishop, something prevented us from doing what we wanted to do," Leo continued. "We blew chance after chance. And we'd think-- 'we'll tell the guys later'. Yet 'later' never seemed to come."

"And then, when we were separated by the Daimyo's son, it wasn't so important-- we were all too concerned with getting back home," Leo continued. "And then, when we get back, and Sensei is captured by that madman-- and we STILL can't seem to kill him-- well--" and he helplessly shrugged his shoulders.

"And then he had Sensei for a second time," Raph whispered, tears once again on his face, voice hoarse with emotion and memory---

And the scene flashed before all four of their eyes-- Master Splinter strapped helplessly to that dissection table; the tubes that were inserted into is body; the blood on his head from what they discovered later was the beginnings of an operation to install one of Bishop's "fail safe" devises.

Four turtles sat there, reliving the horror, tears of impotent anger on all four faces.

But it was Leo who cracked first, suddenly shouting in rage again, and bringing his fist down hard on the little table that sat between him and Raph, sending everything crashing around the room, breaking a glass, and cutting the hand of his injured arm.

"What was that noise?"

Far up in Leo's room, Splinter had heard the crash. He awoke with a start from a pleasant dream, confused as to his location-- and then remembered his sons.

His sons!

They froze, brothers together-- they froze, suddenly four turtle tots about to be busted for some major infraction, suddenly four turtle tots that had to work together to keep the wrath of their father from all of them!

Mikey desperately tried to clean up mess while Don tried just as quickly to bandage Leo's hand.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Leo was smacking his good hand on his forehead in self-admonition, brotherly angst forgotten in the unified attempts by all to fix this before their father found out!

"Hurry, Mikey! Hurry, Don!" Raph was anxiously whispering, both eyes on the door, both ears tuned to any approaching sound.

Too late!

"What is going on? What has happened? Why did you shout so? What is wrong with your hand, my son?"

"Nothing, Sensei, just a minor accident," Don said cheerfully, and all four smiled and nodded enthusiastically in agreement; four turtle tots busted for swiping cookies, for breaking a treasured item--

For just being kids.

Splinter wasn't buying it. He looked at the still-tear covered faces, the mess Mike was trying to hide, and the cut on Leo's hand. He gently took Don's place and took care of the injury himself.

Silence reigned supreme for several minutes. Then:

"What was going on, my sons?"

Mild and loving. No anger. No accusation. No blame.

Which made it worse.

"It was my fault, Sensei," Don said, bowing. "I asked them why they cut us out of their battle with Bishop. I was still hurt about it. I'm sorry."

"No, it was my fault, Sensei," Mike contradicted his brother, also bowing. "I was still mad because I never got to pay back Bishop for Victor or myself, and I complained enough that I guess I upset Don. I'm sorry."

"No, Sensei, it's our fault," Raph said, and he and Leo bowed as best they could. "We hurt their feelings by being overprotective. We're sorry."

Splinter looked at each of his sons. In spite of these apologies, he could still see the hurt, the anger, and the lingering horror on their faces.

He sighed.

"My sons. My sons, Bishop is dead. We are safe. Let all of this go," he said kindly. "Do not spend precious time on whys and why nots." Then he raised both hands in the air and gestured. "This nightmare is over! I banish it!"

They all smiled, and felt better as if by magic.

"Now, I was in the middle of the first peaceful dream I have had since this whole thing began," Splinter said, "when I was awakened by the sons who pressured me into taking a nap in the first place. But since the dream was about my sons, I guess I should not be upset."

He looked at Don and Mike.

"You two have worked hard caring for your brothers," he said. "You have neglected your training and your leisure. Perhaps it would be all right for you to go above ground to visit your friends, or else get some much needed rest yourselves."

Don and Mike looked at each other, slowly grinning genuine grins-- something that they had not experienced in the last few weeks.

"It **would** be nice to go visit April," Don admitted. "We only see her when she comes here to help out."

"It **would** be nice to play some video games, or read some comics," Mike smiled. "I can't remember the last time I did either."

"It **would** be nice to get up and go to the bathroom on our own without an escort or supervision-- I can't remember the last time **I** did either," Raph murmured to Leo, and they both stifled laughter-- especially as they caught the disapproving looks of their Sensei and brothers. They grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry," they said in unison.

"Yes, just remember exactly **why** you are in this embarrassing situation in the first place," Splinter admonished them. "Donatello, before you leave, please bring me their medications. I will go back to sleep in here-- where I can rest peacefully without interruptions. And yes," he looked kindly at his son, "I promise on my honor that I will truly get some sleep. Then you two are free for the rest of the day."

"Thanks, Sensei!"

"We won't be long, Sensei!"

Splinter personally supervised the downing of the three various medications prescribed by the Master Healer, demanding to see bowls, alert to any possible incidents of pretending to drink the unpalatable concoctions while secretly dumping them untouched. He supervised, with the same sharp-eyed scrutiny, the obligatory follow up cups of green tea, glasses of orange juice, and bowls of broth.

"I am so tired of broth," Raph whispered, as Splinter was out of the room to get them some more. Apparently he wasn't satisfied with their only having one bowl each this time. "I'll bet if I cut myself, I'd bleed chicken soup."

"Do you think he puts something in it to make us sleep?" Leo wondered. "Every time we drink that stuff, we end up taking a nap whether we planned on it or not."

"I wouldn't put it past him," Raph responded. "But I'm not going to resist. He just might decide that we're well enough to spank our backsides."

Leo stifled his laughter, along with Raph, to make sure Sensei didn't hear.

They knew that they would have to appease their brothers later. They knew that this wasn't truly over, only on a break.

But they also knew that their brothers-- and **hopefully **their Sensei-- would eventually forgive them, and things would be as they once were.

Splinter returned, and they dutifully drank the second bowls, and thanked their Sensei, and then without a word lay down and closed their eyes.

They each peeked once, after what they had judged to be a decent amount of time, only to find that Splinter was still sitting between them, watching to see if such tricks were attempted. Then they gave up (with identical sighs of resignation) and actually went to sleep.

And when Splinter was satisfied that his two foolish sons were really asleep, he, too, lay down and closed his eyes.

And he dreamed peaceful dreams of his sons.


	28. Aftermath Final Chapter

__

This is the final chapter. Thanks are at the end. TMNT are the property of Mirage.

Leo woke up, sweating and breathing hard. He'd had a brief, vivid dream again-- he refused, absolutely refused, to voice even to himself the term "nightmare"-- of the battle with Bishop. He'd had several since they'd first awakened several days after being brought home.

Shakily he pushed himself up into a sitting position, and reached over for the glass and pitcher of water that had stood there since the first night. His arm had been unwrapped earlier to "let the air get to it," as Don had said-- which made no sense as Don kept nagging him about keeping it covered to "keep the germs away".

Across the narrow way, Raph was leaning back on his pillows, doing nothing in particular.

"Another dream?" he asked, as Leo poured himself a glass of water, trying not to spill any. His arm was still weak, and even holding the glass was tiring.

"Yes," he acknowledged, taking a small drink. "I'm tired of dreaming about it."

"Me, too," Raph said, closing his eyes, remembering his most recent one. "I mean, I know it's mainly 'cause we're so bored. We've nothing to do except eat, sleep, and remember."

"Yeah. I keep trying to forget it, to let it go. We were right to do what we did," Leo reassured himself once again. "We may have disappointed Sensei, and Don and Mike may never understand, but we were right."

"I know. But it was gruesome."

"To say the least. I mean, I thought Victor had said that Bishop hadn't found a way to regenerate important organs, yet the more I think of that battle, the more I think that, if he had escaped, he would have healed."

"Yeah, Don was thinking that, too," Raph said. "Only he didn't say it around Mike. He didn't want him to think that Victor could have lived or anything. Poor guy," he added as an afterthought, and Leo could sense that he meant Victor as well as their brother. Mikey had not handled the loss of this strange created being very well. Only the injuries and critical condition of his brothers had kept him from dwelling on it. Now that they were healing and out of danger, though, Mikey had been brooding at times.

"Man, I am bored," Leo said, after a few minutes.

"I am so bored it isn't even funny," Raph sighed in agreement.

"I so want out of this room! If only they'd let us up to watch TV-- that would be something!"

"I know. Do you think Sensei is punishing us by insisting we're still too weak to sit on the couch?"

Leo looked at Raph, thinking this over.

"You know, it would be just like him. I think, no matter what he's said, he hasn't forgiven us for what we did."

They both sighed, thinking of the list that Mikey had snuck in one day and showed him-- **Reasons for Your Punishment**. On the other side was a list titled **Possible Punishments**. Neither one could remember if any of the seventeen suggestions on the list included "perpetual bed rest".

Their brothers were gone for the day, out having fun with Casey and April. They were riding their motorcycles out into the country for a picnic and general good time, leaving two bored brothers in the tender care of their father.

Splinter was a regular prison guard-- they didn't dare sneeze without his questioning them about the reason. He was on them for any little movement, any little sound. It was like he was looking for reasons to give them more medicines to ward off illness.

"After all," he had said one night, smothering them in extra blankets because it was raining topside, "your resistance is low. I do not want either one of you catching cold."

"But Sensei-- we're down here, away from the rain," Leo had tried to protest, but the stern look he had received silenced any further comment.

They sat quietly for several more minutes, sighing, fidgeting, and staring at nothing in particular.

"I **really** need to go to the bathroom," Leo said.

"Me, too."

"Race you!"

"You're on!"

"Let's see how close we can get to the door **this** time before Sensei catches us."

"Bring it on, Bro!"

"Okay-- ready-- set-- go!"

They both sat there, staring at the door for about three minutes, each trying desperately to get off the floor.

"Yes! I'm going to win!" Leo said, managing finally and with great effort to get to his knees. He grinned in short-lived triumph.

"I'm right behind you," Raph challenged, getting to one knee and one foot, about to stand. With a loud groan that sounded more like a victory cry, he got to his feet before Leo.

"Ha! Eat my dust, grandpa!"

"I'll be in the bathroom before you make it to the door," countered Leo, as he, too, made it to his feet, and managed to take three very wobbly steps before he had to stop and get his balance back.

"Outta my way, I'm burning up the ground!" Raph made it five paces past Leo before over-balancing and going down on one knee.

"Loser!" Leo taunted him, edging past his struggling brother. But Raph regained his standing position, and was almost dead even with Leo ("I'll push you down!" "I'll take you with me!") when the door suddenly slid open.

"What is going on in here!" Splinter stood framed in the doorway, hands on hips, tail lashing his disapproval at their being out of their beds. Again.

Both brothers froze, and then looked at each other. They looked back at their father, trying to judge just how much trouble they were in.

"Nothing," they said in unison, as if they were naughty little turtle tots busted in the middle of swiping cookies.

The look on Splinter's face kept them frozen to the floor; though they wobbled a lot, trying to stay on their feet.

"Get back in your beds, now!"

"Uh, we would, Sensei, but we're afraid to move," Leo said, trying not to smile-- or fall over.

"Yeah-- yeah, let us get our balance first-- we don't want to fall over like dominoes," Raph said, trying to keep from falling into Leo. He was having a difficult time, trying to keep from bursting out laughing at the entire situation while keeping on his feet.

Splinter continued to stare at them sternly, hands on hips. His look spoke volumes, and the message was being read loud and clear by the two.

"Please-- Sensei, before we go back to bed, we both need to go to the bathroom," Leo said. "Besides, how are we going to get our strength back if we don't exercise a little?"

"Please, we will go slow and steady, like the Tortoise," Raph added his plea, trying to appeal to their father with one of his favorite story references.

Splinter, still staring sternly at them, to their surprise called in Leatherhead.

"Ah, my friends! It's good to see you both on your feet," he said, grinning warmly at them.

"Hey, L.H.! Nice to see you!" Raph grinned back, waving furiously-- and lost his balance, falling into Leo. He ended up in a pile with him on the floor.

"Great," Leo said, unable to get up. "Now I'm stuck on the floor and I still have to go to the bathroom."

"Sorry, Bro, I was just being friendly with L.H.," Raph apologized sincerely, as Splinter and Leatherhead helped first one and then the other to stand.

"I hate to impose on a guest, Leatherhead," Splinter said politely, "but could you assist me in taking my foolish sons to the bathroom and back to bed?"

"Aww, couldn't we sit on the couch for an hour?" Raph frowned, no longer feeling the humor of the situation. "Please, Sensei! Just for one hour?"

"Are you still mad at us, Sensei?" Leo asked seriously. "Are we being punished for what we did?"

"Nonsense! You both need much rest. You have no idea how badly you were injured. The Master Healer says you must avoid strenuous activity for at least three more weeks."

Both turtles looked at their father in horror!

"Three **more** weeks?"

"At **least**," Splinter emphasized the word to drive the point home. "Now, let us make this urgent trip."

Leatherhead supported both of them, and Splinter followed them to the bathroom.

"Could we at least do **this** one at a time and on our own?" Raph pleaded, turning anguished eyes upon his father. Splinter hesitated, considering the request. Then he nodded.

"Very well, but the door must remain open."

His father led in Raph first, who then left him alone. He couldn't believe how grateful he felt that this part of his ordeal could finally be taken care of without a spotter.

Leo had a similar experience, and they both laughed at the fact that they were so relieved to finally do something private in private.

Then, to their utter delight, Splinter had Leatherhead guide them to the couch!

"I suppose it will not hurt you to sit up for a while," Splinter told his happy sons, as they were settled on the couch. "And it will be easier for me to keep an eye on you, lest you try to escape again."

"Yeah! Finally! I feel like I've been set free!" Raph rejoiced, ignoring his father's observation.

"This is beyond great!" Leo agreed, and the two of them were so happy-- until Splinter, who had made a quick trip into the bedroom, cocooned them with blankets and surrounded them with pillows.

"There," he said, studying the pair with a critical eye, satisfied at his handiwork. "Now, you may watch some television while Leatherhead and I continue our visit. Would you like something to drink or eat?"

"No, thank-you, Sensei," they both said, fearing that they would receive the dreaded fare of broth and orange juice.

Splinter left, and they stared at the remote control that lay between them on the couch.

"Can you reach it?" Raph asked, after a few minutes.

"Nope-- not yet-- I'm too tucked in."

"Me, too."

Eventually, Raph managed to work a hand free, and the TV was finally turned on.

They were so glad to be up that Leo didn't complain when Raph picked a show that he, personally, didn't care to watch. It was just such a relief to be out of that room! He felt as if he'd been away from home for a long time, sitting there while the TV blared.

Raph, aware of his brother's gesture of not complaining, gave the remote to Leo a half-hour into the show.

"Here, Bro, your turn," he said, grinning.

"You won us our bathroom freedom today, so you keep control of the remote," Leo insisted. "I'm just glad to be sitting up on the couch and out of that room!"

They looked around the Lair, eyes taking in every single piece of furniture, every bit of equipment, every aspect that they could see from where they were seated. They both gazed longingly in the direction of their own bedrooms, and wished with all their might that they could make it up the stairs. It had been so long since Raph had slept in his comfortable hammock, and Leo missed his own things just as much.

"Do you think we'll ever get to go back to our **own** rooms?" Raph asked sadly.

"I hope so, Raph, I hope so," Leo responded wistfully. Then they both cracked up laughing at the entire situation.

"I don't care, I would do it again, even if it meant being a permanent invalid," Leo finally said, growing serious. "I would spend the rest of my life like this if I had to, if it meant that Bishop was gone for good."

"I hear you, Bro," Raph responded. "It was worth the price. Even if Mike and Don stay angry forever. Even if Sensei uses all seventeen punishments in response to his fifteen reasons."

They sat there, watching TV but not really watching.

Splinter found them both asleep on the couch.

"Foolish sons," he allowed him self to smile.

Leatherhead had left some time ago, and he had come to find out why there was only the sound of the TV. Seeing them asleep, Splinter decided to take this opportunity to change their bedding and air out the room. It was high time, and he was quite busy with sheets, blankets and such.

He looked around this room, where the three of them had been staying since they'd gotten home, and it surprised him that he had tears welling up in his eyes. He could still see in his mind how they had looked, standing in the midst of that carnage, the blood coating them like a second skin, the body of Bishop lying before them like some horrifying victory.

He shook off the memory, and returned to the living area.

They seemed okay, sleeping on the couch, so he decided to wait until their brothers got home to take them back to bed.

He sat quietly on the couch between the two, turning off the TV, watching them sleep. He marveled again at the lengths they went to to defeat Bishop and his "super-soldiers"; to "protect" this family.

He still could not decide if they were right in not including their brothers in that suicide venture. He had always stressed the importance of family and teamwork.

_"You must always be as one," he said to the four young turtles. They had just finished their first real weapons training that day, and they were still excited at having finally been allowed to use the real things. They sat in front of Master Splinter, trying their best to calm down enough to meditate, but the thrill of that first training had not worn off yet. _

_"I don't know, Sensei," Raph said. "How can we be as one when we all got different weapons?"_

_"He means teamwork, shell-for-brains," Leo replied, smug and superior-- and Splinter smacked him on the head for being disrespectful to his master and his brother._

_"I believe he was addressing me, Leonardo!"_

_Leo bowed quickly and in shame._

_"Sorry, Sensei."_

_Splinter eyed them all carefully, and then addressed himself to Raphael-- yet the message was to all four._

_"You must always be brothers-- to be at one means to remember this," he continued. "You four are different from the outside world. You must never, no matter the circumstances, no matter the reasons, forget that you are brothers. You must be at one with each other-- even if you are separated by fate, by time, or by death. Enemies can destroy our bodies, but we must never let them destroy our bonds. We are family. We are as strong as the world if we remember this."_

_They nodded in agreement, and swore that such a thing would never happen. But they were young, and didn't quite understand, and besides, they'd gotten to practice with the real things today! _

Splinter once again thought about what Leonardo and Raphael had done.

Teamwork and Family.

He could understand how, in this particular case, the two did not go hand in hand, at least to the thinking of Leonardo and Raphael. He may not agree as to how they left their brothers out of this battle, but he could understand to some extent why Leonardo and Raphael had done so.

He sat quietly on the couch, meditating on nothing much, as his sons slept peacefully.

It seemed to his mind that they were more peaceful now than they have been these past few days.

Perhaps he **was** punishing them by making them stay day in and day out in his room. He certainly still felt anger at them whenever he recalls that terrible day.

He also had to admit, that their recent attempts to escape had made him secretly laugh.

It wouldn't do to tell them this, however.

He recalled their first escape attempt, barely a week after they'd awakened from their comas with the help of the Master Healer. With bandages still seeping blood and such, they were slowly and painfully crawling on hands and knees to see who could get to the door first. He had entered the room just in time.

"What have you to say for yourselves?" he had angrily asked.

They had looked at each other, then at Splinter.

"Goo-goo?" Raphael had replied, and Leonardo had collapsed on the floor, laughing so hard that he couldn't get back up.

And he admired their ability to laugh at even the most tedious things that they have had to endure, like the treatments of the Master Healer, and the three different medications to be taken five times a day, and the pain of having wounds cleaned and rebandaged, and the removal of stitches, and the broth and orange juice-- and being escorted to the bathroom, and watched on top of it.

So he got up, and prepared them something special to eat that did not involve broth and orange juice, and gently woke them from their naps.

"It is time for your medications, my sons," he said, as they sleepily rubbed their eyes, confused for the moment on their location.

"Hey, it wasn't a dream!" Raph winked at Leo. "We finished our race! We really did make it to the couch!"

"I wonder who won?" Leo grinned back.

"Oh, me, naturally," Raph bragged, nodding in confidence. "I beat you to the bathroom as well, slow poke."

"In your dreams."

Splinter, handing them their medicines in various bowls, merely shook his head.

"When you have finished, I have fixed you something to eat," he said, and was amused by the looks of surprise on their faces when they saw--

"Real food!" they shouted in unison.

"Yes, my sons, as you say, 'real food'," he smiled. "Do not eat too fast, and do not think that this is the end of the broth. The Master Healer agrees with me regarding the broth and orange juice, but he said once you were more and more up and around, that you may start eating more solid fare."

They happily ate every bite, and washed it down with grateful glasses of milk.

Splinter finished cleaning the bedroom, and then cleared the dishes away. He rejoined them on the couch.

"We will start training tomorrow," he said, startling his sons with his decision. He had not been very honest with them-- the Master Healer had said that once they started willingly getting up, to let them.

But Splinter still held in his mind the image of how close they came to dying, and he had been locked into what Raph called "mother hen mode" from the moment they had gotten home.

"What do you mean, Sensei?" Leo asked, daring not hope for too much.

"I mean, we will start rebuilding your strength slowly," he said. "We will start with simply walking. Donatello and Michelangelo will start taking you for walks, so you can get use to being on your feet again. We will also start you on the basic weights, to strengthen your arms. This may seem boring to you, but it is the best way to begin. I trust I will have no trouble with either of you-- otherwise, I might decide that you need more bed rest."

"Oh, no, no problems from me, Sensei," Raph swore, crossing his heart. "Leo might act up-- you know how impatient he gets, but I would never--"

"You'll be the first to crack and try to lift more than you're told, or challenge Mikey to a race," Leo scoffed knowingly. "Everyone knows that I will be the one to do exactly what Sensei says."

"Wanna bet?"

"What stakes?"

"Loser has to stay in bed one extra day past our discharge."

"You're on!"

"My sons, must everything be a competition between you two?"

They looked at each other, and they looked serious with a memory.

A memory of one incident where there was no competition-- just teamwork.

Splinter guessed their thoughts, and regretted saying anything. But there was no going back, and he ignored them, making himself busy fluffing pillows and readjusting blankets.

"I will set the forfeit," he decided. "Not you two. But if it helps you to heal by competing, then I will not interfere."

"What's the forfeit?" Leo asked, curious as to what Splinter would require of the "loser".

"It is a secret," Splinter replied with a smile. "Will you be willing to compete, not knowing what the forfeit for the loser will be?"

A brief silence, as both sons remembered the battle with Bishop.

They had known the forfeit for that venture-- death for the loser.

Then they nodded in unison.

"We'll accept whatever you set as the forfeit, Sensei," Raph said, and Leo agreed.

"Very well. Now, I must insist that you return to bed. However, I will allow you to begin your training by letting you walk on your own-- with my help only. This means one at a time, I am afraid. Who will be first?"

"I'll go," Leo volunteered eagerly. "Raph needs to rest a little more before he makes the attempt."

"I'll go," Raph immediately insisted, making a mighty effort to stand up before Leo could. "Gramps here is still breathing hard from lifting his milk glass."

"Raphael will be first," Splinter decided, before they could carry it further. "That means, Leonardo, that you will have some extra time sitting up. It will be a while before I can return for you."

"Hey! Wait, I changed my mind," Raph, realizing that he would be in bed first, and Leo would still be "free" for a few more minutes, tried to back out, but Splinter already had him by the arm, slowly guiding him towards the dreaded room.

"See you in a few hours, Raphy boy!" Leo cheerfully waved.

"Raphael, slow down! I cannot carry you if you fall!"

"Sorry, Sensei."

In spite of going first, Raph was rather pleased that he made the walk with little support from Splinter. The further he went, the easier it became, and when he reached his futon, he gratefully sank down with a muffled groan of triumph.

Leo had a little more trouble than Raph, but he would rather die than tell him that he fell getting up from the couch. He had been so eager to prove to Sensei that he was more than ready to start training that he forgot he still was having balance problems. But he, too, found the going easier as he went, and his reaction to reaching his futon was just as heartfelt as Raph's.

"Now, I must prepare dinner for the others. They will be home soon. I promise that I will not bring you broth for your dinner. But you will still need to take it before bedtime. In the meantime, it would not hurt either one of you to take a nap. But I will settle for your staying in bed!"

"We promise, Sensei," Leo said.

"We really do," Raph said, and this time they really did mean it. They did not want to risk Splinter changing his mind about tomorrow.

They sat quiet for a time after he left, each lost in his own thoughts.

"Raph," Leo finally said, hesitantly. "Raph-- when you think about that night, do you find yourself feeling-- regret? Not regret for killing Bishop; just for the way we went about it."

"Yes," he said, thoughtfully. "In a way, I do regret it. But like you said I don't regret for one second that we put an end to that bastard. Why? Are you having second thoughts?"

"No. I just think-- I just think, is there something wrong with me for not regretting killing him? Is there something wrong with me, that I feel no remorse for ending a man's life?"

"Yeah-- I hear ya. I understand. But what's done is done, you know? And the only reason we keep dwelling on it is because we haven't had anything to do."

"You're right," Leo agreed. "Man, I hate to admit it, but I could really take another nap at this point."

"Me, too," Raph laughed, and they did not compete to see who could go to sleep the quickest.

And their Sensei, coming in fifteen minutes later, was gratified to see them both sound asleep.

**The End**

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And that, my dear friends, is the end of that story! I am sad to be at the end, but new stories are waiting to be written. Thank you to everyone who read and stuck with me on this project. I wish to specially thank Somellamafreak, Doppleganger33 (I hope I remembered the right number), Splinter/Terran, and Machias Banshees for some of the most insightful and helpful reviews! I know I am forgetting others, and I apologize but I am at school and don't have my list with me. I am grateful to you ALL! Thanks again!


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